


Tick Tock

by Ididntsignupforthisshit (myhamartia)



Series: Tick Tock Universe [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Body Dysphoria, Everyone Is Gay, Fluff and Angst, Implied Sexual Content, In which Voltron is basically a social media and Altea is a Netflix Original show, Keith is half Japanese/half Korean, M/M, Pain and Tears, Poor college student! Keith, Slow Burn, Slurs, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmate-Identifying Timers, They're all actors but Keith, Trans Keith (Voltron), Trans Male Character, Transphobia, copious swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-08-08 04:19:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 117,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7743136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myhamartia/pseuds/Ididntsignupforthisshit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Keith knew that his luck probably had little to do with Paula the Bobble Head. In fact, he had a sneaking suspicion that it had to do with the constantly ticking timer creeping up on his left thumb. A Soul Counter, as most called it. It was a natural phenomenon occurring in humans. In each person intended there was an ever present timer, constantly ticking down until the time where they would find their soulmate. When the timer would reach zero, a second tattoo-like marking would appear on the person’s skin – their Soul Mark. This would appear on the person’s soulmate in much the same place. Each pair’s Soul Mark was unique to just the two of them.</p><p>OR: The one where Keith was working and he found his soulmate - who just happened to be his favorite actor, Lance MotherF**king Vasquez.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Paula's Luck

**Author's Note:**

> #ThatMomentWhenYouWriteASoulmateAUAndItTurnsOutJustBlegh

         Keith slipped on his work apron and traded places with a co-worker behind the counter. She gave him a tired smile as she slipped passed. She’d been on call since 07:15; he understood the tiredness in her eyes, though he would be lying if he said he didn’t envy her paycheck. He tied the green apron behind his back as another fresh wave of customers came streaming in through the door. With a little flick to the head of a bobble head named Paula (it was a beefed up wrestler he’d never heard of. Caroline, the girl who had brought it in and set it down one day called him Paula and it had stuck ever since. Most employees viewed Paula as their store’s mascot and each gave his head a flick for good luck on their shift), he was ready to start his shift.

True to his reputation, Paula seemed to give him good luck, as no one had caused any unnecessary trouble on his shift. (Yet, his mind supplied suspiciously.)

     Keith knew that his luck probably had little to do with Paula. In fact, he had a sneaking suspicion that it had to do with the constantly ticking timer creeping up on his left thumb. His Soul Counter, as most called it. It was a natural phenomenon occurring in humans. In each person intended there was an ever present timer, constantly ticking down until the time where they would find their soulmate. When the timer would reach zero, a second tattoo like marking would appear on the person’s skin – their Soul Mark. This would appear on the person’s soulmate in much the same place. Each pair’s Soul Mark was unique to just the two of them.

     Of course, this was only for the romantic intended soulmates.

     For platonic intended soulmates, there was no timer. The marking was there since birth somewhere on their body, completely unique to them and the people that it matches.

     There were some people who didn’t have romantic intended soulmates (most of these people were quite content to live without one, mind you) and some didn’t have platonic ones.

     Keith didn’t have a platonic mark, only the ever present, ever ticking timer winding up the side of his left thumb.

     He handed over customer’s coffee and glanced down at his mark.

_0000:00:17:49_

     His stomach felt like it had been dropped into the bottom of the ocean. It felt like it was sustaining pressure from all sides until it was slowly crushing in on himself. _Fuck,_ he was nervous. There was a throat cleared that drew him back into the present moment. He looked to the little woman on the other side of the counter and hurried over to her.

     “Sorry,” he muttered. “What can I get you?”

     Three customers later, Keith had to resist the urge to look down every other second to his hand. He drew in a steadying breath and blew it out his nose as another customer stepped up to the counter. He was tall and from what Keith could tell, gangly. He wore dark jeans and a tee shirt, the tee was covered by a sleeveless hoodie with the hood drawn all the way up in an effort to cover his face. There was an expensive looking pair of headphones around his neck that trailed down to no doubt plug into a phone in his pocket. There were several bracelets along his hands, along with a golden ring on his right thumb- just where his Soul Counter was, ticking down to mere seconds.

_0000:00:00:06_

     “I.” That was the best Keith could do. His eyes widened as he stared down at the man’s hand, he couldn’t take his eyes off the timer, even when the man began to wave his hand in Keith’s face.

     “Hello?” he asked.

     “Your thing,” he managed, gesturing to the man’s hand. _Yes, very articulate, Kogain. Congrat-u-fucking-lations._

     The man looked down at his timer and nearly screamed a curse. Several heads turned to the man – most scowled – but he wasn’t paying attention. He was too busy watching his Soul Mark change. The timer ticked to zero and then suddenly there was little trails of in appearing along his skin. Green first, trailing up his skin like a flower stem until it had gotten to the pad of his thumb. There, in the center of the pad there was a little spiral of color. It twisted and developed in colors of red and blue until it became a seamless lavender colored flower with crinkled petals.

     The man stared at it with wide eyes, seemingly lost in thought before he jerked his head up, looking around the shop. He yanked his hood down so he could look a little bit better and Keith’s brain slowly wheeled to a stop.

The man was Lance Vasquez.

     Keith breathed out a curse at his realization. This man was one of Hollywood’s top actors at the moment. Keith knew him from a new Netflix original called “Altea” and a few other movies he’d worked on a few years ago. Keith and his sister had both claimed him as their favorite actor for the past forever.

     And now here he was, looking frantically around the tiny coffee shop for the lucky person intended to be his soulmate.

     It was enough to make Keith forget about his own mark for the few seconds it took to watch Lance’s eyes flit around the coffee shop in search for his future life partner. That is... until his eyes landed on Keith. They began to slowly trace down Keith’s face and down his right arm. He visibly deflated when he saw the bare right hand.

     Keith looked down, curious as to what he was looking for. He held up his hands and looked them over. Both men locked their gazes onto Keith’s timer. It clicked down and both held their breaths. _0000:00:00:02_

_0000:00:00:01_

_0000:00:00:00_

     In much the same way Lance’s did, green ink appeared onto his skin and within seconds, Keith had a Soul Mark that matched Lance’s down to very last crinkled petal.

     Lance grabbed his hand with another curse. He held his thumb up so he could look at it closely and compare it to his own. Warmth bloomed in his chest and Keith now understood the way his grandmother used to talk about his granddad. She said it made you warm down to your toes and He only pulled away when a familiar deep voice behind Keith made him jump and take his hand back.

     “Keith? Is everything alright?” one of the managers asked him. He was a tall intimidating man with a bushy eyebrows to rival the beard on his chin. Their co-workers had joked that all of the hair from the man’s head had melted off his head and got caught on his chin and above his eyes, leaving the top of his head bald and shiny.

     Keith found it hard to look away from Lance, who hadn’t done anything but swear and stare at his hand (and now his face) and to the man, but he found it in himself to. Once he did, he spoke the first sentence that came to his mind.

     “I think I have to take an early break.”

     Not much than five minutes later, Keith had stripped off his apron and hurried around the counter. He grabbed a still-shell shocked Lance by the hand and dragged him to the back corner of the coffee shop. They stood by rubbery feeling plant in the corner. Several people were still looking at him, but none had interfered with what most realized was a pair of soulmates coming together.

     “I, uhm. I’m Keith.” He offered his hand. He wasn’t sure how to go about this. He’d never met a soulmate before. _Fuck_ , of course he hasn’t! This is his soulmate. Were their first meetings supposed to be so fucking awkward? Because Keith felt awkward. Lance hadn’t said anything yet. He just stared. He switched between looking at his hand and then his face. God. Well, if there was one thing Keith knew, it was that Lance was much smoother on television shows and movies.

     Lance finally took his hand. “I’m Lance.” He drew out his vowels and made it sound like he was really question than a statement.

     Keith shivered lightly at the touch. He wasn’t sure if it was because Lance was his soulmate, or if it was because of his natural body temperature that his skin was so warm. “I know.” Lance’s eyes widened a fraction as he paused. As soon as Keith heard his own words, he winced and tripped to correct the statement. “I mean you’re- _you know_ \- famous and shit.” He nodded once and seemed satisfied with his explanation.

     “Oh! Yeah, yeah, I know,” Lance bumbled. He rubbed a hand over his face.  When he took them away from himself, he revealed a grinning face. “Sorry this is so weird,” he said. “But soulmates. Soulmates!” He grinned at Keith, causing that stupid warmth to fill his chest again. “This is crazy. We ought to exchange numbers or some shit,” he added just as an afterthought.

     Keith made a little exclamation and dug in his pockets for a pen he had stuffed in his pocket after class earlier that day. “Here,” he said, offering the pen and the palm of his hand.

     Lance took the pen, but paused carefully in consideration. “Fuck. I can’t give out my phone number,” he told Keith. “Kind of privacy issues. The last time I gave my number to somebody, it was leaked and I had to change my number. It was fucking insane. I could give you my Voltron name. Shit, do you have the Voltron app? Or maybe Instagram?

     “Yeah, I have both,” he answered. Lance smiled at him and began scribbling away on his palm. The ball pressed into his skin quickly, moving across his skin just like the Soul Mark had moments before. Once he was done, he looked at the little usernames written in the very neat hand writing. His eyebrows furrowed over the one labeled: _Voltron_

     “Why TheTailor?” he asked, looking to the other man curiously.

     Lance smirked and puffed his chest out the tiniest bit. “It’s ‘cause of how fine I thread the needle!” he declared.

     Keith cocked his eyebrow and paused. “I… can’t tell if that’s a sex joke or not,” he confessed.

     Lance spluttered, quickly deflating. “No! It’s- It’s a-!” He rubbed over his face. “It’s an inside joke,” he finally said, “with a few of my friends.”

     “It’s no big deal,” Keith relented, lifting his hands in surrender.

     Lance’s eyes trailed along his palms and lit up when his eyes traced over the little lavender flower along Keith’s thumb. With a grin, Lance offered out his own palm.

     Keith hesitated, but with burning cheeks he took both Lances hand and the pen. He wrote it out quickly and then pocketed the pen as quickly as he could. There comes a time in a person’s life when they question their username choices. This was certainly one of them.

     “I gotta get back to work,” Keith muttered stiffly, turning on his heel as Lance looked down at his palm. Lance’s bubbling laughter rang in Keith’s ears as he returned to work.

     The rest of Keith’s day passed in one confusing as hell blur. He was sure that he was in a fever dream. There was no possible way that any of that happened. He looked down at the usernames written on his palm several times, but hadn’t gotten up the time (or nerve) to look through the Instagram, or send Lance a message from the barely-used Voltron app.

     It really was a fever dream, he decided as he flopped down onto his bed. It was just before nine, but the fact that he had class early the next morning(early Monday morning classes were the bane of Keith’s existence), added that he was avoiding outlining an essay for one of his least favorite classes, he thought he was justified for his early bedtime and let himself drift off to sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having one of those days when you just. Can't write. And all that comes out is cheesy awkwardness. Please, I beg of you, someone help me.
> 
> For any of you who read my other fic Kismet, there should be an update tonight! My internet had been down and I found myself working on a Soulmate AU instead of the usual stuff.
> 
> Please leave me a comment, telling me if I really ought to write on or send this into the trash where it Belongs.  
> I'm on tumblr @youngtiredandhungry !


	2. Cliche as Fuck and Completely Unacceptable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed a change in the tags. I'm super sorry to every Shallura fan out there that was reading my story, but I have decided that Shiro is Gay with a capitol G. And is with Pidge's older brother. I love it, personally.

Keith woke up to the sound of his phone going off repeatedly. When he picked up the device and turned it on, it told him two things: It was 02:17 and that he had numerous notifications from Voltron.

    He frowned, his eyebrows furrowing and opened the text chat he had been put into. There were six other people in the chat and despite the early hour, they were awake. Wide awake.

**TheTailor added Keith2urheart to the chat**

TheTailor: SOULMATE

ActualSkyPidgeon: what a username

RagretfulDad203: Pidge, be nice

TheTailor: yea??? hes my soulmate???

HunkOfBurninLove: is that a question

TheTailor: Aydiosmio

RagretfulDad203: honestly u guys

MiceWhisperer: wtfthefuck r u all awake

MiceWhisperer: its early af

HunkOBurninLove: LANCE FOUND HIS SHOULMATE?

TheTailor: I FOUND MY

TheTailor: u bitch

HunkOBurninLove: first

ActualSkyPidgeon: shoulmate

TheTailor: Fite Me

MiceWhisperer: r we just gonna ignore that lance just found his Life Partner

ActualSkyPidgeon: 8hrs ago

MiceWhisperer: what.

ActualSkyPidgeon: uh oh lance’s boutta die

ActualSkyPidgeon: Finally

RagretfulDad203: Pidge.

ActualSkyPidgeon: Dad.

TheTailor: @micewhisperer ive been processing???

MiceWhisperer: is he at least hot

HunkOBurninLove: Lance?

HunkOBurninLove: It’s been 15 minutes

ActualSkyPidgeon: fuccccck u broke him

HunkOBurninLove: maybe hes beyond hot?

ActualSkyPidgeon: or the oppositee

RagretfulDad203: PIDGE

    Finally, Keith couldn’t take it anymore. He was tired, insulted, irritated at being woken up and _done_.

Keith2urheart: fucking Rude.

RagretfulDad203: Language!

RagretfulDad203: oh, nvm.

RagretfulDad203: good morning i apologize for my children waking you

ActualSkyPidgeon: DAD

HunkOBurninLove: !!!

MiceWhisperer: i

TheTailor: SOULMATE

TheTailor: HOW ARE YOU THIS FINE MONDAY MORNING?

Keith2urheart: it is almost three in the morning on a school night

MiceWhisperer: college?

ActualSkyPidgeon: whats ur major

TheTailor: u go 2 college  
TheTailor: fuck how old r u

    Keith turned his phone to silent before flopping down on his pillow again. He smiled at the warm sensation of being called soulmate. It was almost as big as the feeling of annoyance playing behind his eyelids, or the thought that _wow! This fever dream is fucking nuts!_

         When he woke up again - this time to his alarm, not his “soulmate” - it was to bright early morning light streaming in through the little windows of his bedroom and the attractive scent of brewing coffee.

    He shut off his alarm blindly and slipped out of bed thinking about his crazy-ass dream. It had to have been. There was no other explanation for it. If it wasn’t, he’d have to think about the crazy questions like who the people in that chat were last night. Lance’s friends? Most likely. They all seemed very playful with each other (he wasn’t even going to think about the “dad” in the group). He shook his head and made his way down the little hallway that led to the kitchen.

    He let his mind wander just for a minute. Even if his soulmate was Lance fucking Vasquez, a famous actor - his and his sister’s _favorite_ actor - it’d be a little weird to find him in a goddamn coffee shop. While he was working, no less.

    It was cliche as fuck and completely unacceptable.

    He shuffled into the small kitchen to find his roommate Julie by the coffee pot, already dressed with a backpack on her shoulders as she filled up a portable coffee mug. That’s right; she had early classes on Mondays, too - hers were just earlier. She threw a smile to him in greeting, along with a “g’mornin’.” Keith couldn’t tell if her words were slurred from sleep or her usually prominent Irish accent.

    He hummed in response and place himself on one of their kitchen table chairs. Silently, he clicked on his phone and checked notifications. Through sleepy eyes, he side-swiped everything until he could to to the correct apps and see them for himself. He tapped open Instagram first.

  * lanceogram started following you
  * birdofprey started following you
  * lluranmentotheirdeaths started following you
  * lotstolove started following you
  * eternalbabysitter94 started following you
  * stachethecash started following you



    Keith hummed at the notifications. It was weird, he mused. Keith had such a number of followers that he knew exactly the number of them at any given time. It was odd that he would just have six come all in a row.

    It took him all of three seconds of going through recent notifications to realize that all of these people knew each other and had followed him on a string. They had commented on one of his recent selfies. If he could remember right, it was just before he and Julie walked in to see the new Star Trek movie. His makeup was done and he was wearing something that could be worn either casually or on a date. It all looked good on him and even if he and Julie just went to the movies and then stopped off for coffee afterwards, he was going to commemorate his good looks with a selfie.

    Sue him.

birdofprey: so i was wrong

    Keith furrowed his eyebrows. Wrong? About what?

eternalbabysitter94: HES SO CUTE?

lanceogram: WHAT DID I TELL YOU I cri everytime

lluranmentotheirdeaths: HIS EYELINER THO

lluranmentotheirdeaths: almost better than @eternalbabysitter94 ‘s

lotstolove: idk fam. Shiro wakes up with his eyeliner #onpoint

eternalbabysitter94: The key is lots of practice

stachethecash: what I find amusing is the different styles of user names from Voltron to here It goes from a cheesy one-liner to a meme in 0 ticks

    Keith snorted. The Voltron username (listed in his Instagram bio) was actually chosen for him by Julie. She had wanted to be able to chat with him when she was visiting her family (they had awful cell reception, but amazing wifi, surprisingly) so she had set him up an account for the multi-purpose social media. He hadn’t bothered to change it yet. (He should really consider it, though. After all what if he actually _did_ meet his soulmate - only for them to die laughing at his Voltron username?)

    The Instagram name came from a recurring joke with his siblings, with whom he had matching URLs with.

    “I gotta go,” Julie announced behind him. There’s a hand that pats his head before the older of the two left the room, shouting something about a late shift and how she wouldn’t be back until the next morning. He looked up, telling her to be safe throughout the day just before he heard the front door slam.

    A little chirp from his phone prompted him to look down.

    A Voltron notification lit up his screen, alerting him to a photo that TheTailor had just sent him.

_What?_

    He looked at his palm, staring at the mostly-rubbed off ink was. The little words, proof that yesterday wasn’t just a fever dream were staring up accusingly at him. The edges of _TheTailor_ nearly reached up to his soulmark.

    Good God, his soulmark.

    He jerked his left hand up to scan along the mark. It looked just as it did yesterday - though now it felt different looking at it. An odd feeling bubbled in his chest as he inhaled sharply. He looked at it for a long moment before he remembered the photo Lance had supposedly sent him. He picked up his phone and swiped to the Voltron app.

    He found several notifications from a chat he was added into that he passed by for the moment in favor of looking to the private messages he had received from Lance.

**02:34**

TheTailor: no but seriously how old are you  
TheTailor: let me tell you i am 23 and i hope to god ur at least 19  
TheTailor: fuuuuuck

**02:50**

TheTailor: ok but like. Our marks are so pretty  
TheTailor: can u believe that i went to get coffee to distract myself from my timer? Like i was in my apartment screaming fuck into the void bc i was nervous  
TheTailor: cause like soulmates??? Its a big deal. Plus when youre some one with my job n fame youre always thinking ‘hows this person gonna exploit and fuck me over’ so im Stressed bout this  
TheTailor: but a nervous/excited/happy stressed  
TheTailor: pidge said your first words were savage as fuck and hella respectable.  
TheTailor: “why do our children associate with such foul mouthed people? Is this where they learn swear words?” - father shiro 2k16  
TheTailor: “if any man’s eyeliner is half as good as yours than he has my approval” - my sister 2k16  
TheTailor: parent #4 and older sister approves  
TheTailor: #score

**03:24**

TheTailor: do you wanna get lunch tomorrow?  
TheTailor: *later today  
TheTailor: if ur free n dont have class  
TheTailor: i REALLY hope that ur not in highschool  
TheTailor: k good morning

    Keith laughed breathlessly at the messages, not quite believing who they were from. His thumb tapped at the chat’s gallery, where the photos added to the chat go unless they’re pinned to text. It was a picture of Lance’s right hand. It was curled in a dark room with only the glow from a lamp to show off his soulmark. The caption on the picture made him grin and glance down to his own soulmark.

_They look better the more I look at them._

    Keith grinned. His right hand went up to cover his mouth as he did. He swiped back to the chat to reply. He didn’t let himself over think anything as he answered the questions presented.

**08:32**

Keith2urHeart: Good morning  
Keith2urHeart: Im 22. You can tell Pidge that im an art major (great career path, I know) Tell your sister thanks? And your dad im sorry?? And id like to do lunch but im hella broke until thursday  
Keith2urHeart: Payday

    He placed his phone down on the table and stood to make his way to the refrigerator. He pulled it open and leaned his head against the door as he looked inside. _Jeez_ , they really needed to make a grocery trip soon; really the only thing they consistently kept stocked was coffee and differing yogurts. He grabbed a cherry flavored yogurt and retreated to grab a spoon. He hummed a little song as he moved around in the little space, prying the lid off of the green Yoplait and tossing it away before placing it by his silent phone so he could mix himself up a cup of coffee. He pulled the almond chocolate milk from the refrigerator and poured some into a coffee mug before he did the coffee. His phone chimed, causing him to nearly drop the percolator to the counter. He set it down, took his mug and went back to his original seat.

**08:37**

TheTailor: shit  
TheTailor: can we still meet up somewhere? I kinda wanna get to know you you know  
TheTailor: soul mates and shit

    Keith bit his bottom lip for a moment, mulling the question over. Slowly, a smile spread across his face. He waited a moment, thinking of what to say. He spooned around in his yogurt and took a bite.

    Finally, with his spoon still stuck in his mouth, his thumbs moved across the little screen.

**08:42**

Keith2urHeart: sure. You know the cafe shop over on 16th street?  
TheTailor: Yea, i think so  
TheTailor: Rolo’s right?  
Keith2urHeart: Yeah thats it. meet me there @11:25

**TheTailor sent a photo**

    The picture was of half of Lance’s face in the frame, half of a bed mattress fitted with pale blue sheets. From what he could see, Lance was grinning madly with his hand just under his chin(Keith could see just the littlest bit of Lance’s soulmark). It made Keith’s chest bubble up with warmth and had him, too, grinning madly. It was the caption that made his cheeks flush the smallest bit.

_It’s a date! *grinning emoji*_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's be real, here. Lance would double, triple, quadruple text like there is no tomorrow. You can fight me on that.  
> Also Keith is lactose intolerant because ??? I need somewhere to project my pain onto. Like I just figured out that I'm lactose intolerant and I am fucking Salty.  
> Anyways, yes you'd better believe that it will be a reoccurring theme bc I am enduring it and so shall Keith. Also Lance is gonna get in trouble because of it. Because I can do these things.
> 
> Dearest sister of mine. You have bestoweth upon me three hella dank memes for mine work. I am externally greatful for your service.  
> Nah, but seriously, my sister helped a lot with this! I was in a dark pit od despair and she helped me out with a few usernames. She came up with MiceWhisperer, Keith2urHeart and TheTailor. Thank you so much, you're fantastic even though it's kinda weird that you're reading this over my shoulder. Read the fucking update you nerd.
> 
> If you have any questions about this chap, please ask! I do not bite contrary to popular opinion. =]
> 
> Drop my my tumblr! @youngtiredandhungry ! I talk a lot about the stuff I write under the tag "Ollie writes things". Today's post was one where I expressed my distaste with limited lactose free Yoplait flavors. They seriously only have cherry, peach, vanilla and strawberry???? What the hell man?  
> Anyway, please leave me a comment! =]


	3. Pictures of Pidgey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BEFORE WE BEGIN I'd seriously like like to thank [Wolfgrowl](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfgrowl/profile) (runningwolf62.tumblr.com), zaedaxobu.tumblr.com and mikiri.tumblr.com for helping me with the Pokemon Go specifics! I've never played the game, so I had no idea how it works. Thank you both so much; you have saved my life! I researched so much, but you-  _you guys_ are fantastic.
> 
> also last chapter i said they were meeting at a deli. it's not a deli anymore. more like a cafe/shop thing that is cliche and sells smoothies.

         Keith hummed quietly along to the music in his ears as he scrolled down his phone. He was in the train, nearing his destination with alarming speeds.

    Alarming, because he was in no way prepared for this.

    After he had taken a shower that morning, he had decided to call his mother. It was, in his humble opinion, a mistake.

_He held the phone between his shoulder and ear as it rang for the third time. He was doing laundry as to give him a motion to focus on while he delivered the news. He scooped the detergent into the washing machine and had just shut the lid when his mother picked up the phone._

_"Hello? Keith, are you there?" she answered in Korean._

_Keith smiled nervously at his mother's voice. "Hey mom," he greeted in much the same way she had. He turned on the washer before turning to go back into the kitchen. "How are you?"_

_His mother gave a short burst of laughter. "The nerve of this child!" she scoffed. "You don't call me for a month and not it's 'how are you'?"_

_"College makes busy people."_

_"Too busy to call your own mother?" she demanded._

_Keith's mother was a ferocious woman, all most of the women in his mother's t)he Park side) of the family were. She was a whopping five foot three with a tongue that could make children cry. She loved her children more than anything on this world, but that never stopped Keith from worrying for his life when she was angry._

_"Sorry mom, I really am!" he exclaimed, coming to rest leaning against a counter top.His mother scoffed again and Keith heard something suddenly shut - like a book. The sounds of an active kitchen filled the earpiece and Keith guessed that she was making herself a cup of tea. "I have to tell you something," he choked out quietly before he could stop himself. He wasn't sure how he got up the resolve to finally start off what he had called her about, but there was no turning back now._

_There was absolutely no going back when his mother hummed, seemingly preparing for the worst when she said "Oh? What's that?"_

_"Are you sitting down? You probably ought to be," he said cautiously. His fingers tapped along his thigh; nervous energy flittered through his veins and it made him itch to_ move _, to do anything besides stand in his kitchen and speak to his mother._

_His mother made a strange sound on the other end of the phone. "Am I getting a grandchild soon?" she ventured._

_Keith spluttered. She caught him in the middle of swallowing so he choked on his own spit. He coughed loudly, hitting his chest. Once he had recovered, he straightened up, his face an alarming shade of red. "I-I'm. No! Mom, I found my soulmate!"_

_Half an hour and a lot of awkwardness later, Keith was exiting his apartment, backpack on his shoulders and a tired, disbelieving look in his eyes._

_He got into his building's elevator and clicked the button for the lobby. As the doors slipped shut, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened Instagram. He held the camera up and took a picture documenting his tired expression. He paused to put the caption: "When your mom thinks it's a better chance for you to be pregnant instead of finding your soulmate. @highkeywheresmyphone @highkeycantdeal"_

_He stopped just short of mentioning Lance alongside his brother and sister. He had been able to get into the train just before his phone began to go off with notifications._

_highkeycantdeal:i_

_You found your Soul mate?!?!#??!!_

_highkeywheresmyphone: i can't see mom's side all that well. it'd be hard for you to get a piece of ass period let alone a universally perfect piece of ass_

    Which is where Keith was now, replying to their comments.

lowkeystillinbed: @highkeycantdeal look at my last posted pic

    It was a picture of his soulmark against the morning sky from his and Julie's little balcony. Frankly, the quality of the picture would have made his photography teacher proud.

lowkeystillinbed: @highkeywheresmyphone fuck you kevin

    Soon he was off the train and roaming the streets on his way to the tiny shop on 16th street.

    Jesus, this was an odd day. Here he was, winding through people dotting sidewalks and crossing roads, going to see his soulmate.

    His soulmate.

    God, what a crazy concept.

    His eyes flitted around, taking in the fresh morning crowds. There were so many sites that he'd loved to have taken a picture of. He sort of wished he had his camera on him. People in their elements, the bright morning air, the feel of encroaching summer - it all makes for a beautiful picture.

    He settled for tugging his jacket around himself and walking on. A little breeze puffed his hair around him, aggravating him until he stopped for a second so he could tie his hair back into a ponytail.

    Before he knew it, he was standing in front of the little shop they agreed upon. _Rolo's_ ran across the front window in a cursive font, colored a bright purple. He pulled off his headphones that still loudly played his favorite playlist through them. He could still faintly hear it, even when they weren't on his ears but he disregarded it in favor of looking around the street. He bit down softly at his lip and pulled at his hair tie so that his hair fell around his face again. He brushed it out of his eyes and glanced down the street.

    Fuck. Had they said to meet inside or loiter until either of them showed up? He pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket and was about to check when the little bell above the shop's door was rung as the door was pulled open.

    "Keith," a familiar voice exclaimed. He snapped his eyes up to see Lance coming out Rolo's with two plastic cups with purple straws sticking out of the top. "Good morning!"

    Keith smiled at him. "Good morning ...again."

    He watched ass Lance winced, looking sheepish. "Yeah. Again. sorry about that." He shook his head at himself before looking back to Keith and lifting up the cup in his left hand. "I got you a smoothie to make up for it." the way he said it made it sound more like a question. He did that a lot, Keith noticed.

    Keith took it with a cautious smile. He looked down into the cup at the pale pink concoction. There was a seventy nine percent chance that he would not be able to drink this. Instead of taking a drink, he just tucked his elbows in with a smiled "Thanks".

    They were around a foot and a half apart, now. Keith felt it was just a little too much. "What was that even about - the group chat? Who were those people?" he asked, looking over the other man. Lance was wearing yet another hoodie(this time it was a deep blue), though this time the jacket had full length sleeves that were pushed up to his elbows. The hood was pulled up over his head again (Keith wondered if it was to avoid being seen, or if it were for a different reason). He wore skinny jeans that hugged his legs in a way that should _not_ have been allowed, tucked into ankle length boots.

    The man grinned sheepishly and dipped his head in a way that shifted the headphones he wore around his neck again. "They were friends," he said. "Castmates. We're pretty tight." He sucked down a drink of his own smoothie before continuing. "We have this chat going, right? And I told them I found my soulmate,” he nodded his head towards Keith, “you. Katie wouldn’t believe me, so I added you to the chat. You left a lasting impression, by the way.” He grinned, giving Keith a thumbs up.

    “Thanks?” Keith said. He wasn’t sure if it was a compliment, or not. Frankly, he got lost after “castmates”.

    Lance just grinned and drank from his smoothie again. “So what did you want to do today?”

    Keith paused. _Fuck_. Why was Lance giving him the choice? What he did for fun ranged from photography to watching Netflix. Meaning that those were the only things he ever did outside of school and train at the gym. Anything else took planning and Keith was too fucking socially lazy for that shit.

    I mean, he did do Pokemon Go. But that wasn’t soulmate date/get together material, was it? It was really only something he did with Julie and Caroline, anyway.

    “Hey, just a second,” Lance said, pausing for a second before he dug his phone out of his pocket.

    Keith’s own phone buzzed in his back pocket. He drew it out, expecting a text from Caroline, possibly Kevin, not really a notification that there was a Pidgey super close by. He opened his Pokemon Go app and waited for it to boot up. Surprisingly, it didn’t take too long. The Pidgey was at the end of the block. Keith glanced back up at Lance, who had begun to look at the end of the block.

    “Dude,” Keith breathed, eyes widening. He looked down at Lance’s phone screen. Sure enough, there was the familiar Pokemon Go screen. Lance looked at him, and then dipped his head to look at Keith’s phone as well. They locked eyes for little more than a second before both took off, phones and smoothies in hand as they went.

    “It’s mine!” Lance declared.

    “Good luck, buddy!” Keith shouted in reply, speeding up. It’d be easier to run without the smoothie in his hand, but he managed just fine. He was fast and he knew it. He easily surpassed his soulmate and he kept going. He stopped just short of the curb. The little bird was resting on top of a fire extinguisher. He set the smoothie Lance had gotten him on the ground before he snapped back up, his fingers flying across the screen as he raced to tap and swipe expertly until the Pokemon was safe inside a ball.

    Lance came to a stop beside him, a disappointed groan coming from his mouth. “Man,” he sighed, slumping his shoulders. “Some soulmate you are, Keith.

    “Should have ran faster then, dumbass,” Keith laughed, looking fondly at his new little guy. “What should I name him?” he wondered, tapping at the little pencil icon.

    Lance huffed, crossing his arms. Keith laughed, rolling his eyes before he bent over and scooped his cup back up off the ground. He rested the straw against his bottom lip but didn’t take a drink. Little bubbles of laughter bubbled up in his chest as he tried to think of a name.

    “I’m gonna name him Vic,” he announced, tapping at the screen.

    Lance cocked his eyebrow. “Why?”

    “Because he’s my Victory Pidgey. Duh.” He snorted a laugh and took another look at Lance. The older man looked at him with a fond expression on his face. Quickly, he looked down and swiped at his phone.

    “Dude, can I take a picture of you?” He held his phone up, indicating the action.

    Keith paused and cocked his eyebrow before shrugging one shoulder. “Okay,” he relented. Lance grinned and brought the camera up. Keith smiled and tilted his phone so that it showed off his Victory Pidgey. Lance laughed as he snapped the picture.

    “Man, you should see everybody else play Pokemon Go. They fucking dominate and take no prisoners,” he said, his voice light as his head dipped over his phone for a brief few seconds. He looked back up to Keith, his eyes practically _glowing_. Keith’s cheeks warmed as he flicked his eyes away. “Like I’ve got an entire camera reel of Katie, Hunk and Allura running around nearly beating each other up about their fucking Pokemon. Hell, Shiro’s Instagram is full of our shit - he’s basically our exasperated father, y’know? Dad friend.”

    “Yeah,” Keith agreed, despite not having a “dad friend”. He pocketed his phone and hummed.

    Lance put his away as well, putting his attention solely on his soulmate. “So an art major,” he said in an effort to start up a conversation. “What kind do you do?”

    They began to walk as Keith talked. They crossed the streets while Keith told about the types of painting he did, how he was into photography. (“If you ever need a model, don’t hesitate to call!” Lance winked and Keith didn’t remind him that he didn’t have his phone number.) His soulmate repeatedly asked questions about differing subjects, engaging him and listening ( _really listening_ ) to Keith talk, only interrupting to input a smartass comment or a failed flirty remark. Lance asked if he had any siblings, so he touched on the subject of Caroline and Kevin, his lock screen (a picture of Caroline squishing Kevin’s frowning face until is semi-formed a smile) before asking about Lance’s own. Lance flicked around in his phone before showing off his siblings. He had four; the eldest was a white haired named Allura (Keith recognized her well. She played alongside Lance in Altea, as the queen Ellora).

    The second was a woman named Nicole. She was shorter than Allura, but stood tall and proud all the same. Lance came third. Fourth, came a dark skinned boy named Jamie. He was just nearly as tall as Lance, though he had a little more weight on him. His cheeks were puffed out to the camera as his arms were thrown around Nicole. The last was a little girl standing front and center. Her arms were thrown wide with a bright smile, even though she was missing a couple of teeth.

    “That’s Minnie,” Lance said. “Nobody’s called her Mary since she was three.” Keith laughed softly, saying how cute she was. Her dark, curly ringlets fell into her eyes in much the same way that it had with Nicole’s. In many ways, the little girl looked so much like her elder sister.

    “Annnd, these are my parents,” he said, stopping onto a picture of three adults. They were all sitting on one side of a restaurant's table. “Mira, Eugene and Sabrina.” Mira and Sabrina held Eugene’s hands in theirs as they kissed the tops of each one. The man was rolling his eyes with a wide smile on his mouth. “They’ve all got their soulmarks in the crook off their elbow. Which is a fucking weird place to have a soulmark, if you think about it.” Keith laughed.

    “So is over your thumb,” he advised.

    Lance gaped at him. “No! It’s perfect. Look at that. How fucking dare you.” He brought up his hand and waved it in front of Keith’s face. Keith snorted and pushed his hand away. He still held the smoothie, which was getting tiresome, but he didn’t mention it.

    Keith thought that this would be awkward, going out with someone in the public eye - someone you looked up at on a daily basis. It wasn’t, not really. There were little lulls in their conversation but that simply came from not knowing the other quite well enough yet, not from discomfort.

    They got to know each other while they walked the streets of the city, not really caring or paying attention to where they were going. It didn’t really matter, either. Keith was having fun, oddly. They weren’t even doing anything more than walking while they talked. It was crazy how warm Keith felt with Lance walking next to him, casually brushing shoulders every once in awhile.

    He didn’t know when they began to hold hands, he didn’t care either.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the support! My mind is fucking blown!  
> I hope you like this update. Serious research went into the three seconds of Pokemon references. I stressed so much.
> 
> EDIT: I realize I should have told you all last chapter, but I forgot.  
> Allura: Voltron=MiceWhisperer, Private Instagram=lluranmentotheirdeaths, official Instagram=spacequeenofficial  
> Caroline: instagram=highkeycantdeal  
> Coran: Voltron=nevilsmithe, private instagram= stachethecash, official instagram=coranyourman  
> Hunk: Voltron=hunkoburninlove, private instagram=lotstolove, official instagram=hunkuleseofficial  
> Katie: Voltron=actualskypidgeon, private instagram=birdofprey, official instagram=holtinthenameofthelaw  
> Keith: Voltron=keith2urheart, instagram=lowkeystillinbed  
> Kevin: instagram=highkeywheresmyphone  
> Lance: Voltron=thetailor, private instagram=lanceogram, official instagram=lancevofficial  
> Shiro: Voltron=ragretfuldad203, private instagram=eternalbabysitter94, official instagram=actualspacedad. The salt is real from Shiro.  
> Please drop me a comment, I love them so damn dearly. Also, drop my my tumblr @youngtiredandhungry where I stress about updates and beg for the specifics of Pokemon Go in order to write a fanfic including it. Translation = talk to me I'm a nerd who loves making new friends.


	4. Freaks and Phonecalls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's something I wanna talk about real quick before you read the chapter:  
> I've messed up a LOT of things in this fic so far, but thankfully, a few people have made me aware of them so I could be quick in fixing the mistakes. Please, don't be afraid to speak up, leave a comment or send me an ask (I always have anonymous on) telling me of the mistake. I'm never bothered by feedback, especially if it has to do with an error in my work.  
> In example: I fucked up a name pronunciation in order to input a drug reference - probably one that didn't even need to be in here. That has since been taken out, but listen - I had no qualms with fixing the Kogane's usernames and changing them up completely. Getting things correct is worth more than the effort to redirect and rework the story.

         Sometimes it felt like Keith had more than one soulmate.

    After his and Lance’s “date” (he still wasn’t sure if it was a date or an outing…) it seemed like he had been permanently added to the ever active Voltron chat featuring Lance’s cast mates. The affair in which Keith was introduced to the concept of each one was an… educational one.

    Lance had scrolled through his phone again, absentmindedly talking as he searched. He showed each person off proudly as if he were each of their doting father. First off there was actually Lance’s _other_ soulmate - his platonic one. His name was Hunk. He was a large man, with muscled arms, yet a soft belly. In the picture he posed with a beach ball on one shoulder, grinning over at the camera. He had soft brown eyes that squinted slightly when he smiles and dark brown hair that would have dipped into his eyes had it not been for the yellow bandana he wore around his forehead. Lance told Keith that this man had been “hunkoburninlove”, which Keith had laughed at for more than a few seconds.

    The one Keith had wondered most about, the “actualskypidgeon” was an eighteen year old girl named Katie. Lance explained that she was dubbed “Pidge” whenever Lance had learned that Katie was fluent in French and the actor had went around between takes with a shitty French accent for a week saying “oh ho ho my little Pigeon!” to the girl. Keith snorted loudly as he laughed, triggering Lance to start giggling as well.

    He’d shown off Shiro next. Of course, Shiro was another nickname; his real name was Takashi Shirogane - then again, Keith already knew this bit. From the first moment he saw Shiro on Altea he knew. The thirst was damn real. In this picture, he had his arms wrapped around a brunet man with his chin dipped to rest against his shoulder. The young man looked very much like Katie (Lance told him that he was Katie’s older brother, Matt - Shiro’s soulmate) smiled at the camera, his hands rested on top of the ones Shiro held on his stomach. Shiro was looking at Matt with a look of pure love in his eyes, completely disregarding the camera documenting the moment.

    “He puts up with our shit,” Lance laughed. “And he gets passive aggressively pissed at us, which explains his usernames, right?” _Eternalbabysitter94_ and _ragretfuldad203_ made perfect sense now, Keith thought.

    Now it was Wednesday. He had just gotten done with his classes for the day. He came into the apartment and was instantly  flopping down on the couch, where he was now, snuggled down into the arm with a thin blanket tucked around him as he watched the updating chat. It was awkward joining in, he felt. (It was also strange to read. He could barely believe that _these_ were the people acting so cool in movies... They were all lame nerds. Rich, famous nerds that Keith found hard to talk to.) He barely knew these people. Hell, he didn't know these people. Not really. In most regards, he didn't know Lance either.

     _That was a stinging thought_ , he realized with a start. His chest contracted and he shifted uncomfortably. He blinked and focused back in on his phone.

ActualSkyPidgeon: IM JUST SAYING

ActualSkyPidgeon: IF THE MAN'S HOUSE IS A MESS I AM WALKING RIGHT BACK OUT SHARP CHEEKBONES BE DAMNED

    He scrolled up for a few seconds in order to find out what the conversation was currently about. _Ah_ , they were discussing Katie's upcoming date. The pros and cons of staying the night, serious turn offs and what would happen if the young man in question were tap into any of these turn offs. It seems the current one was the state of his house.

MiceWhisperer: you mean youre willing to sacrifice that gorgeous man if theres even like a sock on the floor?

**ActualSkyPidgeon has added a photo to the chat**

    A picture of Katie popped up on the feed, an over exaggerated frown on her face with the caption just under her chin reading: "Just fucking try me"

TheTailor: what if it's lingerie

ActualSkyPidgeon: 1) why would he have lingeire on his floor 2) why would that change my mind

TheTailor: maybe he wears it??

    Keith snorted in amusement, breaking his silence briefly.

Keith2urHeart: y'all are freaks

    He thought better only one second after he sent it. He breathed out a curse, waiting in anticipation for the responses. Maybe that was too forward? Shit, he didn't have that kind of playful relationship with them!

    A little wave anxiety filled his chest as he waited with bated breath. It was only around six seconds before the group seemed to all reply at once.

RagretfulDad203: that's what i keep telling them!

MiceWhisperer: MY BROTHER GOT KINKSHAMED BY HIS OWN SOULMATE

ActualSkyPidgeon: excue me

TheTailor: [lenny face]

Hunkoburninlove: you don't know the half of it dude

    He let out a breath and tipped his head back against the couch cushion. The chat went in a different direction as did any anxiety Keith had contracted.

    When he fell asleep, it was still up for debate whether or not Pidge would be spending the night or not.

         It was Friday whenever Lance asked him for his phone number. They hadn't met up since the first time, but they had messaged plenty. Keith still had briefly touched on the subject around Lance with his siblings, but he never flat out told him Lance's full name or given them a picture quite yet. Caroline had demanded his facebook or instagram or _something_ so she could see what he looked like. Keith blanched and quickly changed the subject. He really wasn't sure why he was withholding the information from his siblings, but he thought it had something to do with how they might possibly think he wa a liar.

    He didn't often care what people thought of him, but he most certainly cared for his character when around his brother and sister. Each were very close with one another and being deemed a liar was something he didn't necessarily want to happen. He knew how lies - or people's reaction to suspected lies - affected people and their viewpoints regarding the "liar" in question. Keith knew that there were many insane fans out there claiming to be a celebrity' soulmate - sometimes going so far as to full out copy their Soul Marks, and he knew that his situation was quite possibly something out of a dream for most people. It sounded downright unbelievable, even to him sometimes.

    Needless to say, he found it unbelievable for a message to pop up on his phone from TheTailor, reading "Can I call you?"

    Keith did know to respond to the out-of-the-blue question, so he simply put down his phone number. Half a minute later, his phone began to ring as a foreign number came up on his screen. He slid his thumb over the phone and put it to his ear.

    "Hello?" he said. His eyes flicked to the ceiling and traced over the designs painted there. He was lying down on his back with his arm thrown over his stomach comfortably. There was a pillow propped up behind his head that he pressed further into subconsciously as he waited for the response that came mere seconds later.

    "Hi," Lance greeted. Keith could hear the grin in his voice. "I've been thinking."

    "Uh oh," Keith tutted playfully, causing Lance to scoff.

    "Oh please," he said. He could almost see Lance wave his hand dismissively. "I'm a great thinker."

    Keith let out a little "uh huh, sure thing, Lance".

    "I'm the greatest thinker to have ever have thought!" Lance declared easily. Keith breathed a laugh, rolling his eyes fondly. "Anyway. I was wondering if you wanted to go out again."

    Keith's breath caught in his throat and his eyebrows jumped a bit. He shifted on his bed, tapping his fingertips along his stomach under his shirt. "Oh yeah?" he asked.

    "Yeah," Lance parroted. "Tomorrow. If you wanted to, of course. I've got the day off tomorrow, and it's getting damn hot outside, and I know this spot on the beach where it isn't so crowded that we could go to and we could spend the day at the beach! Play a little in the water, take a walk in the sunset, you know?" At the end of his statement his tone got a little lower and a little more flirty.

    Keith disregarded it for the moment however, because there was a catch to this plan.

_Swimming?_

    "Yeah. You do know how to swim, right?" Lance teased. Shit, had he said that aloud?

    "Of course I know how to swim!" he burst. "It's just that I haven't in awhile and I've got no idea where my swim wear is." That was a lie. He knew exactly where it was: neatly folded in the backest bottom of his sock drawer. He hadn't put it on since the year before, though. There was the large possibility that it no longer fit him. That would be a problem, especially since he didn't know where to get another... _suitable_ set of swimwear for him short of ordering it on the internet. And even then, if he did buy a new suit then it would take upwards of a week to arrive. He didn't have a week. He had a few hours.

    "Well.." Lance trailed off. "You could look?"

    Keith let out a long, drawn out sigh. "Yeah, fine. I'll look. I'll ask my roommate and see if she knows where it is."

    "That's great!" There's that audible smile again. "How about I pick you up at around ten tomorrow?"

    Keith cocked an eyebrow. "Even if I can't find my stuff?"

    "Yep," Lance declared. "Better get to lookin'. See you tomorrow, soulmate!"

    The young man rolled his eyes again. "Whatever. See you in the morning, soulmate." He pulled the phone from his ear and ended the call. He tossed his phone behind his head and let out a drawn out groan. What the fuck was he going to do? He rolled himself to his feet off the bed and crossed the little room to get to his dresser. He pulled open the first drawer and dug in for a moment until his fingers brushed a soft black fabric. He pulled it out and looked at it closely. It didn't really _look_ too small for him, but he didn't dare to get his hopes up. He stripped off his clothes and unzipped the front of the full piece suit. He pulled it on, exhaling through his nose in frustration as he did. This thing was so weird to get into, his thoughts muttered, even worse to get off when it's wet. He finally got it up over his torso and his arms into the sleeves. He rolled his shoulder in order to get the suit in a more comfortable position before he zipped the front of the suit up.

    He glanced into the mirror on the back of his closet door and pursed his lips in thought. It still looked good, he noted with a satisfied smile. It still hugged his hips and upper thighs how he liked; he couldn't tell if it was still in the same situation over his torso until he zipped it up, which he made quick work in doing.

    It still fit. He grinned at himself in the mirror and let himself check his ass before taking the suit off again. He pulled his clothes on and flopped back onto his bed, still smiling in anticipation for the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keith's swim suit: ( http://www.f2mbinders.com/swimgear/concealer-compression-swimsuit )  
> Oh yeah, I still fucked up the Pokemon part. Several people hve told me about it but I think that it's going to remain that way because I have something Planned.
> 
> Okie dokie! Thank you guys so much for reading! Please drop me a comment, or head on over to my tumblr @youngtiredandhungry ! I take requests/promtps/questions about any of my fics, if you'd like to leave them.


	5. Gay for the Artist (Lance)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lance's point of view. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  
> I really just want stupid crushing, Lance, okay? Sue me. (pleasedosoistopthismadness)

         Allura was crashing at Pidge’s place - or so Lance figured. She was on the Holt sibling’s couch, anyhow. She was snuggled comfortably into the leather couch with Pidge’s brother Matt at her side. Matt was watching something on television while Allura was talking to Lance on Skype. Like all conversations these days, the subject had drifted to Keith, Lance’s incredibly adorable soulmate that he had tragically only seen face to face twice.

    “I’ve got a picture of him!” Lance declared. “When we went out the other day. He looks so goddamn proud for stealing my Pidgey - the little shit.”

    “I want to see!” his sister exclaimed. Matt jumped next to her on the couch from the sudden noise. Lance saw him ask something, to which Allura answered: “No, don’t be silly! It’s a picture of Lance’s soulmate from when they were on their date.” Enlightenment adorned Matt’s face as he cooed what looked like an “aaawwwwww!”

    Lance rolled his eyes and picked up his phone. He absentmindedly went about sharing the picture to his Instagram (to combat any further trouble in which one of his friends wanted it). “I just posted it,” he told her. Her eyes lit up and she went about clicking on around her laptop, presumably pulling up his page. Her eyes flicked around while Matt looked curiously over her shoulder.

    “...Lance, I don’t see it,” she hummed, flicking her eyes to him. “Are you sure you posted it?”

    Lance cocked his eyebrow at her. “Yeah, I’m sure.” He glanced down at his phone and sure enough, he had posted it.

    “I don’t see it,” she repeated, puffing a cheek full of air as she looked.

    Lance shrugged. “Maybe it glitched or some shit,” he said, putting it out of his mind. “I’ll just text it to you.”

    “Yes!” she grinned. “Do that! I wanna see.” He rolled his eyes dramatically and went about messaging the picture to his sister, pausing so he could also add Nicki and Jamie to the contact list. He sent it with the same message he had put on the disappearing Instagram post: “look at him. Lookin’ proud after stealing my Pidgey” He put a few emojis along with it, a huffy, angry face and then an innocent little heart.

 **Nicki**  
_FUCKK LANCE_

 **Nicki**  
_he is cute as all hell and i want to steal him_

 **me**  
_no._

 **Allie**  
_I love him and i approve_

 **Jamie**  
_Ok but like_

 **Jamie**  
_his hair?_

 **Jamie**  
_It’s a gd mullet_

    Lance snorted and he saw much the same response from Allura on his screen. He was halfway tempted to fight for his soulmate’s honor, but… Goddamn. Jamie was right.

His soulmate had a mullet.

    That was unacceptable - who has a mullet in _this_ day and age?

    He stayed up for a little bit longer before he announced to his siblings (and Matthew, as Allura had unplugged her earbuds and allowed the man to join the conversation) that he was going to bed. After all - he had a date tomorrow and he needed his beauty rest. Well, he didn’t need it because honestly - have you seen him? Not much can be improved on a face like his!

He scrubbed a toothbrush in his mouth as he looked in the mirror the next morning. His hair was freshly toweled through and it stuck up in every direction imaginable. He didn’t bother to fix it just yet, as he was merely standing in his bathroom, brushing his teeth wearing nothing but his underwear. He was nowhere near ready, therefore there was no need to fix his hair yet.

    It was around 8:45. He had woken up half an hour earlier to the sound of a specially set alarm just for today. He rolled right out of bed, excitement humming through him. He couldn’t resist singing through his quick shower, the Spanish words bouncing off the tiles and fluttering in the steam. He texted Keith and got his address last night before he went to bed after the sudden realization that he had no idea where his soulmate lived.

    It wasn’t too far from where they first met, Lance had noted with a breath of relief.

    It didn’t take to long for him to get his things together. He got dressed in his swim trunks and an old sleeveless tee with the sides nearly torn to the bottom from the sleeves before going around his house, gathering things up. He had an ice chest in the trunk of his car already - they would need to stop off and buy things to put in it, but… hey, he had it - and he had a little bag filled with the essentials, including an old-as-hell bottle of sunscreen. He never really needed to use it since he didn’t burn easily, but he figured that he could bring it along anyway. He hoped that it would still be okay to use…

    He had everything down stairs and into his car in what he considered to be record time. He checked that he had his keys and wallet momentarily before he got into the new convertible and started the engine.

    It really didn’t take that long to get to Keith’s. He had texted him on the way over - through a Bluetooth set. He wasn’t stupid and he _certainly_ didn’t text and drive. He had already learned his lesson about that once upon a time - asking him if he was ready to head out.

    His dear, wonderful soulmate hadn’t replied yet. It was a little worrying, but Lance didn’t let it bother him too much as he kept his mind on the road. Rather, _tried_ to keep his mind on the road. It’s kind of hard to do so when you’re daydreaming about what would happen later that day as he took his soulmate on another not-necessarily-a-date-but-could-be-if-asked date.

    He wondered idly if it was too soon for a date. After all, they’d known each other roughly a week. Even though they were soulmates, it seemed just a tick fast.

    That’s what his brain told him anyway.

    The more whimsical part of his brain had wanted to scoop Keith off his feet, romance him and give him everything he’s ever wanted. He blamed that part of his brain on the pretty marking tracing up his right thumb. Stupid universe making him act stupid and feel stupid and pairing him up with the most stupidly perfect person for him on the planet.

    He pulled into the parking garage under Keith’s apartment.

    He settled on getting out of the car, seeming outwardly calm about this whole thing. In reality, his blood was buzzing and he wanted to jump up and down on the spot. Talk about a bad image to let out to the public.

Stupid universe.

    He got in the elevator and clicked the button to the sixth floor, like Keith had told him to do the night before. He bit his lip and bounced lightly on his toes through the short elevator ride, desperate to relieve the nervous energy that had suddenly flooded him and settled in the end of his long limbs and the pit of his stomach.

    He got out on sixth, his feet thudding across the carpeted flooring as he searched around for apartment 54C. He found it as the fourth door on his left. He looked up and down the hallway as if to check and see if Keith was already out of his apartment and was hiding in one of the fake plants dotting the hallway. Satisfied, he turned back to the door and knocked on the cherry red door. A minute later yielded no answer. He knocked again. Still no answer. He furrowed his eyebrows and bit at his lip.

    Maybe this wasn’t Keith’s apartment?

    A little wave of anxiety washed over him as he pulled his phone from his pocket and made to text Keith.

 **me** **  
**_i’m outside your door_

    The little dots appeared within seconds. They went for a moment before they stopped abruptly.  Lance thought the text would pop up, but instead Keith called him.

    He swiped his thumb across the screen and pressed the phone to his ear with a greeting.

    “I’m down the street,” Keith said in lieu of a greeting. “I had to run the drug store to grab my roommate some stuff. I’ll be back in like five minutes.”

    Lance breathed out a sigh in what was almost relief. His fingers played with the hem of his tee. “You want me to go wait in the lobby, or meet you out front of the building or something?” He wasn’t sure what the protocol was for a situation like this, if he was honest. Did he go and wait in his car?

    Keith snorted. “Nah. I left the door unlocked, so just walk in and wait there. But don’t be loud because my roommate had a night shift and she should still be asleep.”

    “Okay,” Lance mumbled, reaching out to twist the doorknob. Sure enough it was unlocked.

    “I’ll be there in a minute,” Keith told him before hanging up.

    Lance nodded to himself and went in, quietly shutting the door behind him. He stood in the tiny entryway that led to the kitchen on his left. He cautiously entered the little kitchen. He walked slowly, looking around as if he was afraid there would be someone popping out of the woodwork with an ax they were going to use to murder him.

    While looking around, trying to preserve his beautiful life a little longer, he caught sight of the refrigerator. It was filled to the brim with little magnets holding on sketches, photos and crayon drawings to the metal surface. He got closer, curiosity whelming through him as he looked at them.

    There were lots of glossy photos put up, some of them of scenery and some of people. Most of them were of Keith and what had to be his roommate, a brunette woman with a wide smile and a freckled nose. There were some of people Lance recognized as Keith’s family (these were more near the top of the fridge with letter magnets connecting them into a group).

    The pictures were beautiful, yes, but they honestly didn’t hold a candle to the sketches. Most with graphite and colored pencils, they held Lance’s eyes and wouldn’t let him look away. They put him in shock and awe at how skilled the artist was. They were all signed in the corners with the same string of initials, stamping them as Keith’s. He was looking at one in particular, a violent shock of crimson and navy until they blended and swirled in the middle, getting lighter towards the top of the page until it had become a soft lavender. Soft gray charcoal outlined the unmistakable crinkled petals that had Lance’s chest swelling in emotion. He reached his fingers out to touch the corner of the piece, where the reds and blues clashed at first in angry blocks of color. He touched it gently, like if he did then he could commit the picture to his memory.

When he pulled his fingers away, they were smudged with colored chalk.

    He flicked his eyes away whenever he heard the doorknob twist and someone enter the apartment. Keith came in a second later, two plastic bags in his hands that he set down on the table. He let out a breath, staring at the bag before he turned to Lance, a little quirk to his lips.

    “Sorry to make you wait,” he said. “I had to pick up some Advil and shit for Julie.” He rolled his eyes in exasperation. “She doesn’t know how to take a fucking break.” He pulled the little bottle out of the sack and grabbed a water before temporarily leaving the room, supposedly to give the young woman her medicine.

    Lance shuffled on his feet looking down to his hand - particularly his soulmark - simply for something to do until Keith returned a mere tick later, this time carrying a beach bag over his shoulder.

    “Did you find your stuff?” Lance asked, grinning as he leaned against a bare spot on the refrigerator.

    Keith’s mouth lifted in a small smile. “Yeah, finally.”

    Lance snorted at his soulmate and pushed off the fridge. “Good!” he exclaimed, only remembering to keep his voice down whenever Keith winced at his volume. “C’mon, we ought to get going. All the good beach spaces’ll be gone!”

Keith rolled his eyes, but let his soulmate drag him out of his apartment and out on their adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drinking game: take a sip of alcohol every time I put in "before" or someone rolls their eyes. Or scoffs. Or snorts. Or sighs. I guarantee that you will drain your bottle.
> 
> Yes, I used Allie as a nickname for Allura. I headcannon that Lance is the official Nickname Giver. Once he dubs you a nickname, you're never losing it. Hence Nicki, Jamie, Allie, Pidge etc.  
> Lance's car ( http://o.aolcdn.com/dims-global/dims3/GLOB/legacy_thumbnail/750x422/quality/95/http://www.blogcdn.com/www.autoblog.com/media/2012/04/01-2012-bmw-m6-convertible-ny.jpg ) 'cause I want one.
> 
> Drop me a comment! I had limited time to write this, so I apologize that they didn't get to the beach! Next chapter, I pink promise.  
> Check me out on tumblr @youngtiredandhungry ! I take prompts and requests and all that. I also blabber when I'm supposed to be writing under the tag: "ollie writes things" ! Or more specifically, "fic: tick tock" and "fic: kismet". I'm very chatty over there, so if I miss an update I'm usually posting the explanation.
> 
> Thank you for reading this far! =)


	6. Of Broken Ankles and "Perfect Pizzas"

         Keith couldn’t tell you how many times his hair whipped into his eyes on the way to the beach. He blinked rapidly, swishing it out of his eyes aggressively with a huff that was inaudible over the wind whipping in their ears. Lance glanced over to him, grinning with all teeth as the radio blared, sending music behind them into the open air.

    “That’s what you get for having a mullet!” Lance teased over the radio. He only had one hand on the steering wheel, the other hanging loosely out the window.

    Keith’s cheeks warmed against his will and he scowled at Lance. “It isn’t a mullet!” he replied indignantly. He pulled his hair up into a ponytail anyhow. The shorter strands of bangs fell back into his eyes from his ponytail, but there wasn’t anything he could do about them beside tuck them back behind his ears.

    It didn’t seem like long until Lance was pulling into a little roadside parking space and they were getting out of the expensive convertible and taking their things from the back seat. The quilt Lance had supplied was piled on top of the ice chest that they carried in between them. The heated sand flicked up behind Keith’s flip flops as they walked down the beach, idle conversation going between them. His tee billowing around him with the breeze.

    The beach wasn’t too crowded, Keith noticed. Just like Lance said, the crowd was limited to under a dozen small-ish groups dotted around the sand, some already settling down for lunch. Most of them were down the way to their right near a little shack. It was made with wood and had a blue and orange striped awning stretched over a little deck that held a few little tables and chairs.

    “That’s Tony’s,” Lance advised. “He’s got the best handmade pizzas in the entirety of California, okay? We gotta get some sometime. It’s like - God, it’s fucking orgasmic, alright?”

    Keith made a face as he stifled a bit of laughter. “It can’t be that great.”

    Lance stopped short, jostling the ice chest between them. “Keith.” The man looked back to his soulmate, eyes wide in a question. “You did  _ not _ just insult my boy Tony. Nu-huh.” He shook his head fully and continued on, still slanting left to a rocky outcropping to the opposite of Tony’s. “I’m going to get you into the water, get you  _ really _ tired and hungry, and then. And  _ then _ , soulmate!” He shot a look back to Keith, who was stumbling along behind him. Keith was tripping over the loose ground to keep up with the actor who now walked with determination, his nose stuck up in the air. “I’m gonna take you over to Tony’s to get the best pizza you’ve ever had in your  _ life _ .”

    Keith snorted. He righted his feet on the foreign element beneath his feet (The last time he’d been on the beach was with a boyfriend in highschool. Even then all he did was plant his ass on the ground and watched as the boy took his surfboard out and ride the waves for hours on end) and moved so that he was easily keeping up with his soulmate, even getting a bit ahead of Lance a bit. The older man seemed to take it as a challenge as he hurried along, too as he tried to get a lead on Keith again. “If you have to make me workout to make the food taste okay then it really can’t be that great,” he quipped.

    “Just you wait,” Lance said. He shook the pointer finger of his free hand at Keith in a “tsk, tsk” motion. “You’ll see, babe. But for now, I just wanna get a good spot.”

    Keith hummed lightly and flicked his eyes away in embarrassment at the endearment. He kept up with Lance until they stopped at the base of a rocky cliff where the choppy rocks and boulders blended into coarse sand. There was a ring of stones around a patch of ground littered with burnt up pieces of firewood. They set up right next to the fire pit with Lance and Keith both spreading the quilt out and anchoring the corners of it. Two with their individual bags, one with the ice chest and another left to make small kicks in the wind.

    Keith plopped down on the blanket and looked up to the sky. It was bright and blue and completely unobstructed until Lance moved to stand over him, another smile on his face that could rival the sun in its brightness. “What’re ya doing?” he asked. “C’mon!”

    Keith puffed out his cheeks as he stood up and kicked off his sandals. He looked over to find Lance pulling off his shirt and tossing it to the middle of the blanket and then removing his shoes. Now, seeing Lance shirtless wasn’t anything special. He’d been shirtless in plenty of movies, photosets and whatnot (don’t even get him started on the snooping poparazzi that constantly sneaked  around him), so he wasn’t completely off guard with what his soulmate looked like when he was showing a little bit of skin.

So yeah, it wasn’t anything special, right?

    Keith’s brain sure didn’t think so. His breath hitched of his own accord and he found himself looking at Lance’s darkly tanned skin in the bright California sunshine, seeing toned muscles that he flaunted like he knew just what it would do to Keith. But before Lance caught where his eyes had been looking over him, Keith jerked his maroon tee off of his torso by the back of the neck and tossed it to join Lance’s on the blanket.

    Before he could blink, Lance had them in the water. He reveled in the contrast of temperatures between the sunlight warming his shoulders and the water swarming around his hips, one a comforting warmth that one could take a long nap in and the other a shocking cold that could make one instantly awake and alert.

    Though, apparently not alert enough. Lance launched himself underneath the waterline to take Keith’s legs out from under him so that he was plunged under the cold water. It filled his gaping mouth and he made the mistake of trying to take in a breath of air a little too late, as he was already under the water.

    He pushed his toes into the squishy sand and popped back up. His wet bangs dripped into his eyes, but his hair was still kept up by his hair tie.

    Lance popped above the water several feet away while Keith merely spluttered and coughed for a minute, trying to rid his lungs of the salty water. Lance only looked mildly concerned from where he was treading water further out.

    “You’re a dick,” Keith called over to him as he cautiously swam over so that he was in front of Lance. His toes barely touched the bottom here, thus forcing him to tread water in much the same way his soulmate was.

    Keith wasn’t sure what he was stressed about earlier (aside from possible complications with a swimsuit that he couldn’t afford to get a replacement for right now). They swam around, splashing each other until it had evolved into a competition for who could make the biggest wave and little things like that.

    The sun had moseyed itself across the sky in what seemed to be like just an hour or two - not what had to be a good several hours. Keith wiped his nose with pruny fingers, the wrinkles skin telling him that they had, in fact been in way longer that a simple hour.

    His face felt flushed and his body was strangely warm as he swam back to the shore next to Lance. They waded up the beach until they were able to get to their blanket. Keith sat heavily on it and began to brush the sand from his ankles. The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon.

    “What do you think, pizza time?” Lance asked as he stretched out beside Keith, groaning lowly as he did.

    Keith hummed. He’d honestly be lying if he said that he wasn’t hungry; the only thing he had eaten was a bit of breakfast before he had to help Julie out. “Let’s go test Tony’s pizza,” he said as he pulled himself up. Lance turned his head and looked up at him. Keith caught his eyes and held them for a solid moment before Lance moved, rolling to his knees so he could fiddle with the ice chest.

    “Hold up,” he advised over his shoulder as he rooted through the little chest. The partially melted ice sloshed between the walls of the chest and the drinks he and Lance had stopped off to get earlier. He pulled out a couple of bottles and stood and barely paused to shut the lid before he stood up. “Here,” he said, passing one of the blue bottles to Keith’s hand. He took it gratefully, realizing his thirst fully for the first time in a little while. “You’ve got to stay hydrated.”

    “You’ve had as much water as me,” Keith shot back. He still sipped at his bottle of flavored water as they began their walk. The beach had gotten more than a few more visitors since they had arrived; most families had came and went, now leaving several groups of teenagers and young adults running around, playing in the water. Keith’s eyes lingered on a few people who were surfing against the smoothing waves farther out into the water. They looked downright graceful as they glided over the water. There were three in particular that he was watching; they were seemingly all in a group, the way they were whooping and hollering at each other and they way they looked like they were playing with each other. One fell off their board, triggering one of the other two to pump their fist in the air with what looked to be a laugh.

    “Wipe out,” Lance breathed a laugh beside him. Keith nodded absentmindedly. It was quiet between them as they progressed down the beach to the little shack that was clear in view now. The lights were on inside, as well as several strings of lights strings around the awning. Keith took in how many people seemed to be over there and blanched a bit. Jesus, they were busy.

    Keith looked up to the brilliant colors painting the sky. The sun was dipping, leaving the sky’s color to darken and mix in with the lighter bits of the sky to the west. Night was coming, the air smelled of - as predicted - freshly baked pizza and other foods and Keith had his soulmate by his side. What could possibly make this better?

    He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn’t see the hole dug into the sand until he was stepping in it. He lost his balance for just a second before he heard a shout of “watch it!” and a warm hand caught around his wrist. Lance pulled him upright and a couple of steps away from the hole. Keith looked back to the hole and the telltale child’s plastic shovel left stuck in the sand.  _ Dumbass kids, _ his mind cursed darkly. “Careful next time, stupid,” Lance chided lightly, no bite to his voice. “If you trip and break your ankle, Allura would kill me.”

    Keith snorted. “So would  _ my _ sister,” he told Lance. “Honestly she’d kill you and then Kevin would fucking laugh about it.” He paused, continuing in Korean and a tone of voice that told that he was mocking his brother, “ _ Oh, my god! I can’t believe you broke your fucking ankle with your soulmate. I pity the dude stuck with you! _ ” He rolled his eyes in exasperation to nothing.

    A laugh came from Lance. It nearly had Keith stopping in his tracks at the sound of it. It started small, a breath from his lips before it progressed and he was stopping in his step, bending over a he laughed fully, loud and long.

    “I have no idea what you said,” Lance confessed, looking up cautiously. “But your  _ voice _ , oh my  _ God! _ ” He hiccupped as he straightened back up, still grinning from the aftermath of his laughter.

    Keith flushed slightly and he cleared his throat. He turned on his heel with Lance still gripping his hand. “I said that you’re a loser. Come  _ on _ .” He kept his face forward, but his ears were trained in on the bright sound of Lane’s laughter. It occurred to him that he wouldn’t need any artificial lights soon if Lance keeps laughing like that.

    He pulled Lance along and the actor seemed content to let him, trailing behind and simply holding his hand. He did shift so that their fingers were twirled together, but otherwise let Keith lead them both towards the shack that shown like a beacon on the darkening beach. It wasn’t long until they were stepping onto the deck and up to the line up to the counter.

    There was only one person in front of them, a teenager with a shaved head. The dangling bracelets jingled when they went to scratch at the back of their head and mess with the back of their bikini strap as they waited on the middle aged man at the cash register to finish ringing up their order.

    The two soulmates didn’t have to wait long before the man behind the counter -  _ Tony, maybe? _ Keith wondered - before he was handing over a receipt and a small amount of change. They picked up a pizza box on the counter and twisted around, dodging the two men in order to step off the deck and go about their night.

    The man caught sight of the two of them and grinned. There were dimples in his dark cheeks and his wild hair bounced as he threw his head back in glee. “Lance!” he boomed, attracting many eyes. Keith cast a nervous glance around. There were a few people whose eyes lit up at the sight of Lance - one drew out their phone. He didn’t have time to dwell on it as Tony - he assumed it was Tony - came from behind the bar so he could wrap Lance in a bear hug, which the smaller man returned with as much gusto. “What are you doing here, I heard you were in Jersey?”

    “No, no,” the actor said, shaking his head as he was put back down. “I’ve been back for a little while.”

    Tony’s face went suspicious. “Why have you not visited?” he asked. “You were usually in here every weekend if you weren’t working!” Lance blushed and rubbed at the back of his neck with his right hand.

    He dropped his hand and gave a shrug. “I dunno. I’ve been busy. Life and all that shit.”

    Tony nodded and clapped him on the back. “I understand, my friend, I understand.” He caught sight of Keith and stilled for a moment. “Speaking of friends, who is this cutie?” he asked. Keith couldn’t imagine how much Lance’s eyes - hell, his entire face - brightened as he turned to face him.

    “This is my soulmate!” he informed him. It was Keith who blushed this time. “And he sincerely doubts the top quality of your food.” He shook his head sadly. “So, we’re here to educate him! I need only your finest pineapple and greens pizza, please.”

    Tony grinned wolfishly. “I’ll be right back,” he assured them before going back behind the counter and to the little opened kitchen way where several people were cooking away.

    Lance swung an arm over Keith’s shoulder. “Orgasmic flavor in ten minutes,” Lance advised him with a smirk. “You’ll be begging to come back for more.”

    Keith rolled his eyes, leaning into Lance just a tiny bit more. “Whatever, Lance. Bring it on.”

Turns out that Lance had lied. Not about the flavor - hell, he wouldn’t even know if he did or not. His fucking  _ soulmate _ wouldn’t even let him eat the stupid food - but about the  _ ten minutes _ part. Lance had insisted on setting a fire in the pit they had put all of their stuff by. He was now  _ desperately _ trying to keep the little flame steady among the driftwood he had collected in their little area.

    “I’m gonna eat the pizza,” Keith announced, reaching for the white box Tony had given to them nearly a half an hour earlier. The man had tried to give it to them free of charge, saying something about loyal customers, but Lance had just told him to put it on  _ the tab _ . Lance snapped his head up and glared at him.

    “Dont. You. Dare,” he hissed. “We’re gonna eat it and watch the goddamn sunset next to a blazing fire.”

    Keith snorted a laugh, opening the pizza box anyway. “The sun can fuck off. I’m starving.”

    “Ungrateful motherfucker,” Lance sniffed. He stood and made his way next to Keith and dropped himself down on the blanket next to him, leaving the fire to do its thing.

    “If it makes you feel any better,” Keith said, his mouth full. “This pizza is passable.”

    Lance made an offended noise from his space. He reached over Keith’s lap for the pizza box. He extracted a piece and sat back, though if he was just a bit closer than before neither of them mentioned it. “I once tweeted about how amazing it was and for the next forever, Tony’s place was packed to the brim with people wondering what such a fine celebrity like me would see in a tiny-ass beachside restaurant.” He took a large bite of his slice and closed his eyes, humming. Keith was left to watch how his eyelashes fluttered closed and how his jaw shifted as he chewed.

    Keith continued eating. He stretched out, letting his toes near the flame to warm them while he laid back, looking to the dark sky. The stars were just beginning to shimmer into view.

    “If you’re such a big shot celebrity, then why don’t people ever recognize you in public?” Keith challenged after a solid few minutes of silence.

    Lance laid back next to him. “‘Cause I’m a ninja!” He whispered it like it was a secret, but his eyes sparkled in jest, meeting Keith’s sceptical ones in stride. He smiled widely, his nose crinkling the slightest bit. “Nah, for real, uh - I really only go to less populated places. Like your work and this beach, you know? I kind of make it an effort not to just walk into the tabloid’s camera on purpose. If they want this ass, they gotta work for it!”

    Keith scoffed a laugh, shifting his head to knock against Lance’s shoulder. After it made contact… well, he was just too lazy to move it - yeah, that’s it - so it stayed there, Keith’s ear pressed to Lance’s bare shoulder. Warm skin pressed to his cheek, the smell of salt in his nose and something undeniably just  _ Lance _ .

    “I’m just kinda private with my life.” Lance continued. Keith had to search his brain for what they were talking about. “Especially with you. I don’t really want anybody to know about us just yet. Because it gets crazy. All this… paparazzi, fans, and shit. I don’t know. I don’t want anybody harassing you just because you’re my soulmate.”

    Keith nodded against his skin. He wasn’t sure what time it was. All he knew was the warm, heavy air around them and the tiny fire warming his toes and casting shadows on Lance’s skin. All he knew was the soft rumble of Lance’s voice and how Keith could see the slow, rhythmic movements of his chest. All he knew was the drooping of his eyelids and how his breath began to level out - how the crust of his pizza slipped out of his hand to drop to the sandy blanket and how he was dropping off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sister stopped reading this, due to laziness - you know what that means. I was able to put in a dirty joke. One that I have used in real life and even got slapped in the face for. (Thank you, best friend)
> 
> I'd like to thank Mikiri on tumblr for beta-ing this chapter!
> 
> Please drop me a comment! I absolutely love them and all the feedback I've gotten on this so far. I'm also on tumblr @youngtiredandhungry ! I take requests/prompts/i don't know why i put this in every chapter, I'm sure you all know by now.
> 
> Oh and by the way, a couple of you have pointed something out from last chapter and can I just say --- ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  
> Muhu ha ha.


	7. The Morning After (Mixed)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for misgendering! Keith's Rough Patch™ begins. I hope you all are Satisfied™.

          Early the next morning, Keith was blinking his eyes open to a patch of bare, tanned skin, a blanket both under and around him and a soft wind tousling his hair. Needless to say, it took him a moment to gather his thoughts. Of course, his previous memories concerning how he fell asleep didn’t quite cover how he ended up cuddled under the blanket in Lance’s arms.

    The breath he let out bounced off of Lance’s skin and rush back to his face, warming his chin and nose. Lance shifted, letting out something akin to a high pitched whine. His arms tightened around Keith for a second and a heavy breath was puffed on the crown of his head. The older man pulled back and looked down at Keith with sleepy, half lidded eyes and furrowed eyebrows. The silence that fell over them was comfortable. Keith’s chest felt fuzzy and warm as he looked into Lance’s eyes.

    Slowly, Lance tipped his chin up and looked around. “We slept on a beach,” he said as he squinted at something farther up the beach.

    Keith moved, unfurling the blanket from around them both in the effort to stretch out his arms. His arm curled in front of him and he bent a bit away from Lance’s body. He wasn’t quite moving away from his soulmate (he didn’t want to) but just twisting his body in order to try and relieve the sleep from his bones. When he finally replied with “No shit, genius,” his voice was heavy with sleep and groggy from his dry throat.

    Lance was giggling into the top of his fist. “God, I can’t believe that we did that!”

    Keith’s reply was a singular grunt this time as he sat up. He rubbed his knuckles over his eyes and exhaled heavily. When he settled his hands in his lap, he finally looked around. He found that it was just after sunrise, the sky was a light gray blue with clouds streaking over nearly the entirety of it, covering the sun and making it seem much cooler than it probably was.

    There were already early morning surfers in the water, weaving their boards over the waves with a graceful ease that made Keith want to try his hand on the water again. In foresight, it was probably a bad idea: it had been years since he had been on the water, and even when he last surfed, he was at an amateur skill level. He blinked, watching one in a yellow wetsuit glide over the water, climbing back up to the top of the wave with skill.

    Keith let out a soft sigh and turned to Lance. “We probably ought to get going. I told my roommate that I’d be back later that night, not the next morning. She’s going to kill me for making her worry.” He rubbed as his temple. “No, hang on. She’ll actually demand every detail about ‘last night’, and  _ then _ she’ll kill me.”

    Lance laughed, full and loud and  _ too damn bright for this early in the stupid morning _ .

         The ride back to Keith’s apartment was a little more sober than the ride  _ to _ the beach. The radio still played, but softer. Lance drove a little slower than the day before. Keith was left to wonder if it was simply because he was tired or if he had wanted to prolong their date.

    There was a whole other series of questions. Was it a date?

    He didn’t know and frankly, he didn’t want to wrack his brain to try and figure it out.

    He fiddled with his phone from the passenger seat. It had died sometime during the night, leaving him blind to Julie's exact level of anger. If she called more than three times, he was in serious trouble. He nearly blanched at the thought. The last time he had unintentionally ignored her, she had stolen all of his underwear and mixed them in a vat of honey and sauerkraut.

Of course, that was the time shortly before the time known as the “dark age” in the Kogane/Ryan household. The Prank Wars were real and they were a horror to behold.

    Lance pulled into his building’s parking level. Keith got out, carrying his bag behind him. His hair felt crazy and knotted, his shirt was wrinkled and hanging loosely over one shoulder and sand still clung stubbornly to his skin. He must have been a sight to behold - one Julie would no doubt get an eyeful of as soon as he walked in their door. Keith was walked up to his apartment by his soulmate. He gave a little smile to Lance as they stopped right in front of the blush red door of good old 54C. It wasn’t a nervous smile - er, he hoped that it wasn’t seen as nervous. Sure, he might have been,  _ just a little bit _ , but Lance shouldn’t get to know that. Because really, how lame was this: being nervous about your soulmate dropping you off at home after spending the night literally right next to each other? Pretty fucking lame, Keith felt.

    After all, what was the code to a situation like this? Was he supposed to bring him in and offer him a cup of tea, or coffee or whatever the fuck? Was he supposed to send him on his way, high and dry? Or-

    Or possibly kiss him goodbye?

    He fiddled maybe just a second too long with getting the keys from his bag, because Lance’s phone apparently decided that it was time to  _ go. _

    Lance muttered a little curse and retracted the device from his pocket. His eyebrows furrowed and he cursed again. “Shit, I have to go,” he said distractedly, eyes still locked down on the screen. “It’s my manager. She says in important.  _ Fuck _ , I’m sorry.” He looked at Keith for only a second before he leaned in, placing a messy kiss to his cheek. He pulled back abruptly and twisted on his heel so he could hurry to the elevator at the end of the hall. He clicked the button and the doors slid open almost instantly. Keith watched as he hurried in and leaned over to press at a button. Lance looked at him and offered a grin. “I’ll call you later!” He put his hand next to his face in the customary  _ call-me _ gesture before the doors were slipping shut, going to take Keith’s soulmate down to his car.

    Keith bit his lip, turning from the elevator to his door and making to unlock it.

    He creeped into his home, making directly to his room as to prolong the confrontation just a few moments longer. He tossed his bag onto his bed and kicked off his flip flops. He pulled off his tee shirt and struggled out of his swimsuit, afterwards tossing both of them into the hamper in the corner of the room. He had no doubt that he had just flung sand everywhere (including onto his mattress, he realized with a tiny grimace), but he didn’t pay it much attention as he went about plugging in his phone, taking a shower and finally getting dressed.

    Of course, coming out of the shower, he heard the tell tale signs that Julie had been alerted to his presence in their home: the tapping of socked feet impatiently on the wooden floor in the living room, the tv’s volume was turned down until it was nearly muted, and no comments being made to the tv from the young Irish woman.

    He rubbed a towel in his hair and went out to the living room.

    He progressed right through the living room, tossing a good morning over his shoulder as he went. He stepped into the open kitchen and made to fix himself a cup of coffee.

    “Good morning,” Julie called in turn. She twisted so she was leaning on the back of the couch, her knees in the seat. “So?” Her eyes were bright with curiosity. Her fingers threaded together and propped her chin up, her elbows on the back of the sofa as she gave Keith her full attention.

    Keith looked at her over his shoulder through the little archway. He picked up his coffee mug and turned to her, stirring the soft brown liquid as he leaned back against the counter. “We went to the beach,” he started off in a tone that was slower than his normal one. “We swam and got pizza and then we fell asleep on the beach.” He shrugged. It really wasn’t much of anything, really; he simply went out with his soulmate to the ocean and fell asleep on the beach. It was nothing like the glimmer in Julie’s eye suggested.

    “‘Fell asleep’?” she asked, a grin forming steadily on her lips. “Tired, were you?” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and shimmied her shoulder awkwardly from her position.

    He gave her a blank look. “Yeah, we swam for a long time,” he said, tone flat.

    Julie deflated, falling half over the sofa so she faced the floor, groaning. “Fine!” she relented. “Don’t tell me about your beach hook-up.”

    “We didn’t hook up,” Keith said, “We literally just fell asleep on the beach.”

    She looked up to him, a skeptical expression on her face. “Okay then,” she sighed and flipped so that she was sitting properly and facing the tv again. Keith took his mug and went to sit in the crook of the couch.

    “What are you watching?” Keith asked, looking at the commercials flashing passed on the screen.

    Julie tossed a smile to him. “Famous-people news.” Keith rolled his eyes in an exaggerated movement. He wasn’t one to watch the celebrity gossip more than looking at the random, occasional Buzzfeed article. There… was the slight possibility of him looking up a few interview videos and articles about Lance right after they had met. He had seen some of them before, as most of them pertained to Altea (Keith did a bit of light reading around his favorite show every once in awhile, keeping up with the news as it were), but it was different watching and reading them now because -  _ holy shit _ , this person was his soulmate and he had talked to pretty much every other star in the show through Voltron. He still had trouble wrapping his head around that last bit, if he was honest.

    “Could you imagine what it would be like if you shared a Soul Mark with someone like this?” Julie asked absentmindedly. Keith couldn’t help it; she had caught him in the exact moment that he was taking a drink of his coffee. He choked in surprise, pulling the cup away from his lips so he could cough. Julie looked over at him in surprise. “Are you alright?” she questioned.

    Keith nodded, bending over to put his coffee mug firmly onto the floor. “About that, Jule.” He sat back up to find the woman looking back at the tv, giving it her undivided attention. Her jaw was slack and her eyes had widened almost involuntarily. He followed her gaze to the screen and felt himself begin to mirror her position.

    “Oh, my God,” Julie muttered. Her hands scrambled for the remote so she could increase the volume of the television. Keith blinked rapidly as he stared, a cold numbness filling his bones until he was frozen and a sick feeling gathered in his stomach. “What the hell?” Julie, turning to Keith like he could offer an explanation. It was a logical assumption, Keith had to give her that - after all, it was  _ his _ face on the tv.

    There, on some generic celebrity gossip channel, was a picture of Keith. Not just any picture of Keith - no, this was one that must have been taken early 2012, judging by the long, dark hair that fell over his shoulder and the makeup be wore. The picture was taken from the waist up with Keith’s face tilted forwards in what was nearly a shy pose, with his hands behind himself braced on the brick wall behind him. It wasn’t him being shy in the least - Keith couldn’t remember ever feeling shy in his life. Nervous, maybe. Never shy - he simply hated his picture being taken at that time: still closet and figuring things out. His unbound chest and long hair featured in the picture made him blanche - dysphoria spreading throughout his limbs. It only progressed as the spokeswoman began to speak, telling of the juicy piece of news marked  _ “EXCLUSIVE” _ .

         The words _important,_ _stupidity,_ _mistake_ and _media_ rang insistently in Lance’s brain. His fingers gripped his steering wheel perhaps a bit too tightly and maybe he pressed the gas pedal a bit too much as he sped to the office complex that his manager Carla worked out of.

    He felt out of breath as he walked through the building, his brain swam with every possibility, every mistake he had made in the past few days since he had last had a meeting with Carla. She already knew about Keith. They had a sit down meeting where they discussed how they could avoid keeping his soulmate’s name out of the media as much as they could for the time being.

    The young actor garnered more than a few curious looks from people getting in a few extra hours (It was Sunday morning. Lance couldn’t fathom why they would come in on their regular days off) as he nearly jogged through the building, still in the clothes he had worn yesterday. He had no doubt that there was sand still clinging to his hair and his wrinkled clothes.

    When he finally reached Carla’s office, he didn’t bother knocking before he came in. “Talk to me,” he burst as soon as he stepped foot into the office and closed the door. “What happened?”

    The blonde woman glared at him from behind her desk. She didn’t bother getting up or greeting the young man as he flopped into the leather chair in front of the hardwood desk. “Lance, look.” Her tone was as hard and thrice as cold as ice. It had Lance snapping to attention in his seat, straightening his spine and focusing solely on her. “From a marketing perspective, this is great; you’re practically trending everywhere. From a more personal one: you’re fucked. I, personally, think it’s fantastic that you found your soulmate, but  _ seriously _ : you just created a goddamn shit storm that’s currently heading straight towards you both.” She tapped her slender fingers against the arm of her chair, her face contorted into a dark scowl.

    Lance’s eyebrows furrowed and his jaw was left to drop. “What happened?” he all but demanded.

    Carla sighed heavily. “Look, don’t pull this with me, alright? You should at least look a little guilty.” She shook her head and rubbed her fingers across her temples. “We talked about this a few days ago when you first met him. We agreed that we wouldn’t be sharing his name or any of his social media platforms. No pictures. No info about him, yes?”

    “Yes!” Lance exclaimed, jumping a bit in his seat. “I don’t know what you’re ragging on me for, I haven’t done any of that shit.” He didn’t even have any pictures to share of Keith besides the one he took from their first time going out together. He  _ certainly _ hadn’t shared it with anyone but his siblings, much less the fucking  _ public _ .

    Carla lowered a level stare onto him. She didn’t say anything, but instead chose to look back at her computer. She clicked around with the mouse until she had found the correct web page. When she had, she twisted her monitor around so Lance could see an Instagram profile.

_ His _ Instagram profile - the officially verified one.

    The page held several short video clips and pictures of the Altea set, some early morning selfies and group pictures featuring Allura and his other siblings. There was an aesthetic looking picture of his right hand against a brick wall, showcasing his newly formed soulmark (Carla had thoroughly chewed his ass out for that. Fans were sent into an uproar that hadn’t quite gone down yet in regards to the celebrity’s newly acquired soulmate). He didn’t pay much attention to those pictures. Instead, he locked eyes onto the most recently posted picture and felt the color drain from his face and fingers begin to tremble.

    This was bad: he fucked up.

    “I didn’t post that,” he tried; it was more to convince himself of the fact than Carla.

    “Does anyone else have your logins?” she asked, her eyebrow quirked.

    Lance was quick to shake his head. “No. Nobody.” He deflated into his leather chair. His eyes were still trained in on the picture: Keith smiling, showcasing his Pidgey, Vic. The wind was tousling his hair, blowing it softly around his head, but clear of his face. How the hell could the picture have made it to the-

    He cut his train of thought off with a realization. “Oh fuck,” he muttered.

    “What is it?”

    “I think I actually might have. Not on purpose, I swear!” He began to shrink down in on himself when Carla’s glare darkened. “I was just trying to share the picture with my sister on my private account and then it didn’t show up there, so we thought that it maybe glitched and shit. And I never thought anything of it. I thought…” he trailed off with another curse and rubbed his hands over his face. “I fucked up, Carla.”

    “No kidding,” she scoffed. She shifted in her seat and Lance heard the sound of a working keyboard. “I don’t know how we can fix this,” she told him. Lance looked up, meeting her eyes. “The only way to go would be forward. Announce that you found your soulmate and you’re happy with him. You’re already a LGBT role model and this would only benefit that.”

    Lance sighed. “I don’t want him to feel pressured,” he said. He knew that he had already messed up his chance at giving Keith the comfort of public invisibility, but that didn’t mean that he wanted to rush Keith into the tabloid’s evil clutches by giving them their story just yet. He’d known his soulmate for a week for Christ’s sake! A fucking week and it’s all gone to hell.

    Carla let out a sympathetic breath and sent in what he saw as a reassuring smile. “I know you don’t, but it’s only going to get worse from here, Lance. The masses are practically already forming a man hunt to figure out who this kid is. You and I both know that they’re going to find out sooner rather than later, too.” She leaned back in her chair, seemingly resigning herself to the situation that they found themselves in. There was a  _ ping _ from the computer that had Carla sitting up and instantly at attention.

    She furrowed her eyebrows as she read over something. Lance watched her curiously as the woman’s face only twisted more and more as she finished reading. She clicked around until an audio clip began to play.

    Lance tensed at the woman’s voice. He didn’t know her name but he knew the voice type. The:  _ I get paid to exploit these people’s personal lives and I enjoy it _ voice done by most tabloid reporters.

    He launched out of his chair and went to stand behind Carla’s chair. He looked at the screen and instantly frowned. There was a picture displayed on the screen - one that was easily recognized as Keith, but a Keith from a long time ago. The woman’s voice filled his ears and made him sick:

_ “-soulmate of one of Hollywood’s finest  _ Lance Vasquez _ had been identified as a 22 year old woman named Katherine Kogane-Park. Nobody knows their story yet, but-,” _

    “Shut it the fuck off!” Lance exclaimed, suddenly outraged.  _ Jesus Christ _ , he thought. He never thought he could hate reporters more before this, honestly. This was downright insane.

    Carla paused the video with a jump, looking over her shoulder to Lance.

    Lance didn’t know what to do. He was angry. His skin crawled with heat and he wanted to hit something. God. This was bad. This was a television program. Everyone who saw that clip would see Keith represented in the wrong way - as a woman.  _ God. _ They would assume- they would see him on the street and recognize him as something he wasn’t.

   He was finding it hard to contain his anger, his  _ disgust _ at this.  _ How did they even find that information!? _ Lance hadn’t known Keith’s deadname (there was no reason to, of course, but it raised honest questions as to what “sources” these people had dug up), and he had clearly used male pronouns in his post, hadn’t he?

_ Hadn’t he? _

    He hadn’t misgendered Keith as well, had he!?

    Anxiety panged as Lance’s chest. He was so overcome with emotion at the entire situation that he couldn’t focus on one thing at a time. At least, he couldn’t until one thought came to his mind.

    “Has this been aired yet?” he asked cautiously.

    Carla hesitated, looked back to her email for a second before answering with the exact answer that Lance didn’t want to hear. “Yes,” Carla said, “Ten minutes ago.”

    Lance let out a harsh breath, trying to calculate the chances of Keith having seen it.

    “...I have to go, okay?” he didn’t wait for an answer, he just made his way from around the desk and to the door.

    “Where are you going?” Carla asked as he reached for the door knob.

    He looked back at her, a million thoughts, tasks and emotions swirling in his mind. He focused on the only one that mattered at the moment. “I’ve got to go call Keith and see if he’s alright.” He twisted out the door and hurried out of the building.

Keith didn’t pick up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I now feel like I'm writing a soap.  
> Yes! You were all correct. Lance has made a Mistake (Do you see the Pokemon Plan now? Muhu. Ha. Ha.)
> 
> Thank you to Mikiri on tumblr for being my beta! :)
> 
> Please drop me a comment! Yes, yell scream and express and emotion you may or may not be feeling. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> You can drop by my tumblr @youngtiredandhungry , where I babble a lot about my writing.


	8. "Soulmates" Means Jackshit

         Needless to say, Julie wanted answers. She had clicked the tv off after the program had been shown and turned to Keith on the couch. She looked as confused as he felt.

    Keith reached over and pinched the inside of his wrists just to make sure that he wasn’t dreaming - that he wasn’t having a nightmare. His head swam with half-formed thoughts and his stomach dropped like it was filled with lead, like it was dropped in the ocean and was currently being crushed in from a million different directions.

    “What the fuck?” Julie muttered. It wasn’t a demand, it wasn’t angry. It was just… confused. Oddly sympathetic.

    “I-.” He cut himself off. He didn’t know what to say, where to start. He tucked himself into the arm of the couch, took a breath and began. He recounted the details left out by the damn “exclusive news report”. He told her how they had met, how he hadn’t told her the night of because he had literally considered himself either very sick or practically insane. And he didn’t tell her afterwards, because… well honestly, who’d believe him?

    “So, Caroline doesn’t know yet?” she asked.

    Keith shook his head. “No.”

    Julie shifted to lean back into the couch. “Your family probably needs to know,” she advised. She set her lips in a thin line and nodded to the black tv screen. “Before they find out through other means. Just, you know, to prepare for questions and such.”

    He crinkled his nose, but got up off the couch. “Yeah, I know.” He retreated back into his bedroom to find his phone. He huffed out a breath of air, fingers swiping across his screen. His brow furrowed with countless notifications from multiple of his social medias, Voltron and Instagram in particular. He didn’t have any calls or messages from his brother and sister yet, so he counted that as a win. (He didn’t really expect his mother to find out that way unless someone had told her directly. She hated gossip channels with a passion Keith had never seen before in anyone.)

    He phrased a text to Kevin in the most simplest of ways, calmly explaining only the barest of details as quickly as he could. He left out the television report; he knew that his brother’s inevitable anger would only add to his own and cause a huge chunk of craziness that he wasn’t ready to deal with quite yet.

    He was very close to giving his sister the same message, but stopped short. His thumb pressed at the call button instead. She usually didn’t go out on Sundays, as it was the only day she was off of classes and free from work, and he credited her speed to pick up her phone to that.

    “Good morning,” she greeted. It sounded like she had just woken up.

    “Hi, Cara,” he said. “I’ve got something I have to tell you.” The brief silence had him swallowing and adjusting the phone to his ear. Maybe she hadn’t heard him?

    He heard his sister’s line crackle as she let out a breath. “Is it bad?” she asked. “Your tone, bro. You sound like Mom just had a goddamn heart attack.  _ Wait _ , that isn’t what happened, is it!? Is mom okay? What about dad? Are they alright? Fuck man, tell me what happened. Do I need to go to a hospital? Oh my God.” Her words only got faster and background noise increased as she presumably rustled around in her apartment.

    “Caroline, holy shit, nothing like that is going on.”

    The noise stops and Caroline made a curious noise from her throat. “Oh. What’s up then?”

    He let out a breath and dropped onto his bed. He rubbed at his temple and recounted his story. In the beginning, she had interrupted him with a “Oh my god, bullshit!” her tone light and jovial, like her older brother might be playing some kind of joke on her. When he continued, voice flat and tired, she muttered “Holy shit, Keith” and didn’t interrupt him except to ask little questions of “How did it go” and “My God, you really raced with him and won?”

    When he finished, he bit his lip and waited for her to process everything in her own time.

    “Okay,” she said after a moment. “How did they know about you?”

    Keith laughed. He couldn’t help it. He had wracked his brain ever since he had saw the picture of himself about how they had gotten ahold of that - how the fuck he found out about him at all. He remembered the woman going on later to report on the Instagram photo shared to Lance’s official account. He liked that photo. The one where he was wearing what he deemed fit him (namely his binder) and a smile telling of his victory. There wasn’t a caption shared, but Keith was only left to assume what it held, as he hadn’t looked at the picture for himself, yet.

    “I don’t know,” he told her. “Lance was the one who posted the picture. I don’t have any goddamn clue how they found my shit after that.”

    “I’m sure he wouldn’t share your links, bro,” she scoffed. He could see her rolling her eyes.

    Keith blinked and after a moment, he breathed out the question, “Why not? He’s probably fucking banking off exposure or something.”

    “He’s your soulmate, Keith. He wouldn’t do something like that.” Her tone took an obvious turn and it had Keith sitting up, a cold look coming over his face.

    “Look, I barely know him. I’ve known him, literally, for a week, okay? There hasn’t been enough time to determine whether or not he would do ‘something like that,’” he snapped. He stood up from his bed and stared angrily at the wall.

    “But he’s your  _ soulmate _ , brother.”

    He set his jaw as his free hand twisted into the material of his pants. “You and I both know that being soulmates barely accounts for anything. It’s about the person you’re attached to and if they have the balls to do this kind of shit.  _ Soulmate _ means jackshit if he’s just using me as a means to get his name in the papers.”

    Caroline let a long, tense breath out and it fanned over the receiver of her phone. “Dad would be kind of proud to hear you talk like that, Keith. Damn proud.”

    The remark had Keith frozen to the floor, a sick feeling running through down his throat to end up in his stomach.

    “Don’t say that,” he said.

    Caroline didn’t say anything for a few moments. When she did, she sounded remorseful - at least a little, anyway. “Alright, I’m sorry. I… Is it okay if I come over in a few hours?”

    Keith’s eyebrows crinkled and a frown tugged at his lips. “Why? You’ve never had to ask before.”

    He could practically hear her roll her eyes. “‘Cause I’m going to bring ice cream and we’re going to bitch about your stupid soulmate while we watch some shitty sitcom on tv. Duh.”

    Keith let himself give a small smile. “Yeah, okay. Bring your ice cream.”

    “I’ll call you when I head out,” she said, her voice gaining a bit more of the light from earlier before the line disconnected. He tossed his phone onto his bed; it landed somewhere in his comforter, where he was content to let it lie. It had began to ping again, but he chose to ignore it as he left the room.

    He let out a breath, letting some of the weight off of his shoulders. He’d call his mom in a few minutes, he assured himself. He just needed a glass of water, right now. A glass of water that was comparable to a snowman’s backside in temperature. He’d love to splash the fuck out of his face with it. Maybe it’d wake him up - maybe he was correct with his first assumption a week ago, that it was all just an elaborate fever dream. He’s torn on whether or not that would be a good thing.

    He got his glass of water, taking several gulps until his glass was emptied. He put the cup in the sink and took a breath, savoring the chill of the water that lingered in his chest, grounding him to the tiled kitchen flooring. He focused on the feeling and didn’t let his brain stray to the bout of anxiety and dysphoria that it had wanted to spring up and consume him since seeing, well…  _ that _ .

    He needed something to take his mind off of it, he realised. The gym was his best bet. He couldn’t  _ think _ if he was too tired to move. He couldn’t feel that dark pit of fear and uneasiness trying to consume him if he was too focused on the physicality of keeping himself going, feeling the sweat on his skin and the burn in his muscles. He’d leave the thinking until after, when he would inevitably be calling his mother.

    With resolve, Keith twisted and went to change into his workout clothes and gather up his things. Julie appeared in his door as he was slipping a loose cut off shirt over his sports bra (even in his current state of mind, there was no way that he was going to work out in his binder. A compressed bra was enough when topped with one of his larger shirts). She leaned against his doorframe, crossing her arms in a stance of not-quite comfort but not quite confrontational, either.

    “Where are you goin’?” she asked carefully.

    Keith plugged a pair of earbuds into his phone and tossed the buds over his neck, not bothering to put them in yet as he slipped his phone into his pocket. “The gym,” he told her shortly.

    She didn’t say anything, just gave him a look and a few nods. “Be careful,” she told him, “for me. Don’t overexert yourself.”

    He nodded, giving her an affirmative response before turning to his closet in search for his tennis shoes.

    Minutes later, he was gathering his bottle of water from the fridge and a snack bar from one of the cabinets. He was just turning to leave when there was a knock (it sounded more like a battering ram, if he was honest) at the door. Damn fine timing, if you ask Keith.

    He set his things down on the counter before he blindly pulled open the door to find Lance in his hallway. He looked flushed, like he had ran up the stairs instead of taking the elevator; his chest heaved, adding to the theory. His blue eyes, so bright were wide with what looked like panic. His mouth opened and closed with unspoken words that Keith didn’t want to hear.

    “I- no, Keith, listen, I-,” he blubbered as he finally found bits to his voice. “D-Did you see it?”

    Keith’s hand curled around the side of the door as he felt anger rushing through his body. His face flushed with anger and he had to take a long, steadying breath.

    “Yes,” he said shortly, raising an eyebrow at his soulmate.

    It seemed to snap the young actor out of it, as he straightened up. He held his hands in front of his chest. “I swear to God, I had nothing to do with it.”

    Keith rolled his eyes and grabbed Lance’s wrist so he could prompt him inside the apartment. He was not having this conversation in the middle of the fucking hallway.

    “Oh yeah?” Keith questioned. His lip was curling at its own accord and he crossed his arms. “I guess your phone, the only device that had that picture, just posted it by itself?”

    “No, no, listen, it wasn’t like that.” Lance shook his head. His hands shook as well, like they were trying to  _ wax on, wax off _ the problem away.

    “Then what was it like?” he prompted. He lifted his eyebrows in question and tilted his chin forward.

    Lance shrunk under his gaze. “It was an accident- I didn’t mean to have posted it. And I know what they said on the tv, I never even  _ insinuated _ what they were saying. Never, I swear! We- We’re soulmates. I would never do anything to hurt you.”

    Keith’s glare leveled on him. Just like that, the dam broke. His frustrations and anger poured out of the most unfortunate place that it could have - his mouth. Before he knew what he was saying, it was leaving his mouth. 

    “Having a fucking soulmate doesn’t mean you can’t hurt each other!” Keith yelled, stepping up to be within inches of the young actor’s face. “Just because you’re soulmates doesn’t mean that you’re going to be happy together! Fucking ‘ideal life partner’ doesn’t mean  _ ‘guaranteed happily ever after’ _ , alright? Not all Soul Marked couples make it. You know, some just can’t make it click.” He clicked his fingers furiously in front of Lance’s nose. The older man blinked, his eyes widening as he shifted back a bit. “Sometimes, you just have to  _ get out _ , okay? Sometimes you end up in a broken family because your parents believe in the empty, souped up promises that  _ soulmates _ are; because they thought that the universe would fix their goddamn problems for them.” He took a breath. He could practically  _ feel _ the anger pumping through his heart. In the same way he could feel Lance’s forlorn, helpless feelings in the air.

Good.

    “In this kind of shit, you have to fucking work at it. You have to form bonds. You have to build trust. You have to respect boundaries. Guess which ones you failed,  _ Lance _ .”

    Lance’s jaw tightened and his fists clenches. His shoes scuffed at the entry way tile as he bounced on the balls of his feet, seemingly preparing his own attack. Instead, after a moment, he just sighed carefully and slumped his shoulders.

    “I’m sorry,” he muttered finally. “I know I messed things up.” Keith snorted an unamused laugh. “But I promise, no, I  _ swear _ that I didn’t mean for this to happen. What I said on the beach was true, okay? I didn’t want you in the spotlight,  _ especially _ not like this.” His blue eyes were wide and pleading. “I didn’t even know about it until a little while ago-,”

    “Bullshit!” Keith exclaimed over him. “How did it get there - how did they get a goddamn story unless you gave it to them?”

    “Because I’m a dumbass!” Lance shouted.

    “Oh, obviously,” Keith hissed through his teeth. He was tired. He just wanted this mess to be over. “Look, I think the universe made some huge mistake,” he said quietly. “Please, go.” Lance’s jaw dropped. All the fire had gone from Lance’s eyes and he was left with the only option that made sense: go slack and stare.

    The sharp nod Keith gave to the door had Lance coming back to himself. Numbly, he turned and exited the little apartment. Keith shut the door harshly behind him, banging his forehead against the wood as he let out a loud, pained sigh.

Stupid fucking universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read a post a few days ago about how OP didnt like simple, sappy soulmate aus. How they liked complicated situations concerning how the soulmate system is is simply fucked up and we humans go through odds against our favor to be with the ones intended for us (or something similar) I will link it when Im not on mobile. It took my same feelings about it and basically put them on crack.  
> ( http://studiosixproductions.tumblr.com/post/129947092950/krumcake-honestly-im-really-only-interested-in ) It's very good, okay. Please look at it. It sparks so many ideas and possibilities that I'm only tapping into right now.
> 
> Anyway I hope you enjoyed this! The beta-ing is done by Mikiri on tumblr! <3 Thank you wonderful person.
> 
> Please drop me a comment! I absolutely love interacting with you all and hearing all the things you wonderful people have to say it fantastic. Blow my mind, really.  
> I'm on tumblr @youngtiredandhungry !!
> 
> Aaannnnd i just spent 3 hours putting together a bed I'm going to sleep now. Thank you for reading.


	9. We're Better Than Before

“And you didn’t let him explain anything.”

    Keith’s lip curled as he ducked his face into his chest, avoiding the newly arrived Caroline’s gaze. “No,” he muttered, partially ashamed. Sure, he yelled some shit at Lance. It was completely real,  _ justified _ shit, but shit nonetheless. In all honesty, he hadn’t planned for his aggression to take form that way; Lance caught him at the worst possible time, before he was able to blow off some steam, re-patch his raw, exposed wires and put up some defenses that were desperately needed.

    “Where were you during this?” Caroline sat up straighter from her seat at the kitchen table, plastic bag filled with the promised ice cream forgotten in front of her as she cocked an eyebrow at Julie, who was perched in front of the sink. Julie seemed to be avoiding the Kogane sibling’s gazes, as her wide eyes flicked to the floor, the refrigerator, the cabinet, the archway leading to the living room… Finally, she cleared her throat and met Caroline’s eyes. Honestly, it was like the youngest Kogane was a terrible warrior - thousands were scared to even look in her eyes for fear of her ruthlessness and intolerance for stupidity.

    Stupidity that Julie allowed Keith to partake in.

    The young Irish woman cleared her throat and tittered lightly. “I, well, I was in my room,” she said honestly. “I’ve shared flats with my best friends. All of their fights with  _ their _ girlfriend ended up in make-up make outs against the refrigerator. I wasn’t keen on getting in between  _ that _ , thank you.”

    Caroline muttered a colorful string of words and let her face drop into her palms. “So you yelled at him and kicked him out the door,” she recounted dryly. “What’d you say to him?” She lifted her head up and propped her chin onto the backs of her knuckles, exasperated curiosity swirling in her warm brown eyes.

    Keith considered her carefully, sitting a little straighter, squaring his slumped shoulders and sligning his spine. He shrugged a bit. “I told him that he was a dumbass,” he said flatly. He didn’t want to get into specifics, really. He didn’t want to  _ talk _ , really. He just wanted to go to the fucking gym. Fifteen minutes after Lance’s exit, Keith had stood in the kitchen in a rage so hot that, if Julie were to for some odd reason crack an egg onto his hair, it would fry instantly. This was when Caroline chose to text:  _ i’m picking up ben & jerrys be there in 30 _ .

    He leaned back against the side of the counter, a breathy huff falling from his nose. That didn’t leave any time to go train, no time to blow off steam. He’d still be raw when she came, still vibrating with emotion that had to way to be expressed quite yet. His hands shook with pent up rage that was directed towards both Lance and himself. His mom always had said that he had a temper, didn’t she? More than once it had trapped him into situations he regretted entering.

    Just as Caroline had said, she arrived not long after with a pint of Coffee Fudge Caramel strung up in a white plastic sack. An easy, comforting smile on her face as she stood in his doorway, holding the sack in one hand, her car keys in the other. She was dressed nearly the same as he was; comfortable Adidas brand clothing, long hair falling around her shoulders and face beautifully.

    “Let’s talk,” she said, shifting so that she threw an arm over his shoulders and could gently lead him back into the apartment. He was content to simply sit on the couch and eat his stupid dairy-free Coffee Fudge Caramel ice cream while indulging Caroline’s frequent questions of “So can we sue him? Does this count as slander?”

    He was  _ not _ content for Julie to inch out of her room, timidly asking if it was “Safe to come out, now?” The question had earned a curious look from Caroline and thus, they launched into recapping the One Sided Kogane/Vasquez Shouting Match of Late May.

    Which was why they were here: around the kitchen table with Ben & Jerry’s currently melting in the middle of the tabletop, Caroline boring holes into his face as she scrutinized him, her pink lips pursed in thought.

    Julie gave a little scoff and shuffled from where she was to Keith’s right. He snapped his eyes to her, glaring a thinly veiled threat for her to shut  _ up _ before she spills something pivotal.

    Obviously, the woman’s eyes had suddenly been blinded to him, because she went on, addressing Caroline. “More like his soulmate reached level fourteen and unlocked mod’s backstory.” She fiddled with the hem of her button down shirt. “Unsavory soulmate experiences and all,” she added in a murmur. Keith’s nose crinkled and his glare intensified tenfold.

    He made the mental note to start looking for a new roommate when his sister gave a long suffering sigh from across the table. There was a  _ thunk _ -like sound as he saw her drop her head to the table top from his peripherals.

    “You tore into him, using mom and dad as examples,” she said blankly against the chipped yellow paint of the table.

    Keith rolled his eyes and sighed, resisting the urge to mimic his sister. “It’s a valid point,” he said in defense. “‘Soulmates’ is just inflated bullshit created by the universe to-”

    “Oh my God,” Caroline groaned. She shifted, propping her chin up so she could look at him better. “So you refused to communicate with your own soulmate because you’re scared that your relationship is going to be a repeat of our parent’s, yes?” His nostrils flared as he looked at her, his eyes swimming.

    “No,” he said firmly. “I called him out on something he said because it was bullshit.” He stood up abruptly, causing his chair to slide back roughly. He went to grab a spoon out of the drawer before returning to his seat and digging into the fucking ice cream. It was cold against his teeth, but  _ goddamn it, he needed to cool down. _ “And are we going to forget about the picture he sent out?”

    “No, I haven’t forgotten,” Caroline rolled her eyes to the heavens. “I’m gonna kick his ass for that later, but  _ on the other hand _ you still kicked him out before using the big ‘C’ word, didn’t you? Did you listen to him until he was through with his story?” He ignored her in favor of digging a clump of fudge out of the carton with the handle tip of his spoon.

    “The  _ C _ word of Communication was not accomplished,” Julie advised as she joined Keith at the carton, her own spoon in hand. “And apparently, no make-up make outs, either.” She hummed in disappointment as she gathered a chunk of ice cream from the side of the paper carton. She took the seat beside Keith and continued eating directly from the carton like a goddamn animal. And,  _ no _ , Keith didn’t count because he hadn’t technically double-dipped, yet.

    “That’s really disappointing,” Caroline told him. She took hold of his spoon and used it to take part in the melting treat. “I know you’re bad with your words, and I know that it must really suck right now, but listen-,”

    “I’m not bad with my words,” he hissed indignantly, making a grabby-hand at his spoon that his sister continued to hold captive. “And  _ yes _ ,  _ thanks _ . It’s pretty damn bad.”

    “-you have to get your head out of your ass and talk to the boy. Let him explain the situation with  _ his _ words before your pretty little mind gets filled with falsities,” she finished her warning with a point from her stolen spoon.

    Keith rolled his eyes. “What do you want me to do? I’m not calling him.” He snatched his utensil back so he could take a bite, one swirled with a bit of caramel. It melted in his mouth with a satisfying feeling.

    Caroline regarded him with a raised eyebrow. “Right, I have no doubt of that. Stubbornness is going to kill you, I swear.” He scoffed, but she went on. “Promise me that if  _ he _ calls that you’ll answer it,” she prompted.

    Julie and Caroline both looked at him, trying to read his expression. He paused only for a little moment before he sighed through his nose and let his shoulders slump once again. “Fine,” he murmured. “I’m making no promises beyond that, though. None.” It seemed to please them, anyway. Julie joyously clinked spoons him and Caroline grinned at him just before proposing to go put on those sitcoms she spoke of earlier.

         He was going to answer the phone if Lance called, true to his word. Well, if he caught the call, anyway. He was currently in the process of ignoring his phone as it chirped insistently. Notifications about new Instagram comments, mentions and new followers, Voltron connection requests, texts from acquaintances, Twitter mentions… it was overwhelming, to say the least.

    He made the mistake of looking at his phone after Caroline left. He checked Twitter and then quickly ducked out - he was  _ trending _ . Well, specifically,  _ #LanceWhoAreThey _ was trending. Exactly three seconds told him that the hashtag was about him. Questions to Lance littered the website, all asking things that had to do with his gender, his name and just who the hell he was in general, and how they were expecting their relationship to go on. The only real silver lining, as far as he could tell, was the fact that they had used gender neutral pronouns in the tag and that they all had yet to find his Twitter account.

    Simple things, he supposed.

    He shifted on the dining room chair, currently in the living room. He was facing the little balcony to the left hand side of the room (it was a simple thing, not much room for more than a potted plant and a singular pinstriped chair), canvas flat in his lap while his paint palette sitting on the coffee table beside him.

    He knew that he should probably have dragged his easel out of the hall closet, but he just wanted something for his hands to do. By the time Caroline left, it had been nearly four and Keith wasn’t exactly sure how long it had been since that was; it was dark outside, so maybe around nine. He wasn’t about to get up and go look - or lean over and check his phone, either. He was simply too busy trying to trying to ignore the damn device and focus in on how the white curtains curled around the doorframe in the silent night air. Focus on the slight twist on them and how he could capture that using graphite now, bright obnoxious paints later that shouldn’t fit together, but somehow all  _ do _ . He tried to focus, but the insistent ringing  _ of his phone _ -

    Oh shit, his phone. It rang loud and proud, buzzing around on the glass topped coffee table, vibrating dangerously close to the oil paint-smeared palette as a call came through. He snatched it up with his left hand, leaning across his body to do so. He looked at the name for a half a second before sliding his thumb over the screen and putting it to his ear. He puffed, quirking his lips. “Hello?”

    “Uhm, yeah. Hi,” Lance stammered. Keith didn’t say anything, trying to let Lance continue, but apparently, Lance left the opportunity open for Keith to continue to yell at him, because he stayed silent as well.

    Hesitantly, Keith looked back down at the canvas. He continued scratching with the tip of the pencil. He listened to Lance’s soft breathing, the shuffle of fabric with furrowed eyebrows. He shifted in his seat, holding one foot against the leg of the chair, the other firmly on the wood floor. “My sister made me promise to hear you out, so you can talk,” he said. He shrugged through the little pang of guilt. Kind of a half-truth, right?

    He heard Lance’s breath catch seconds before he began to mumble out, “Oh! Yes. Shit, sorry, I just wasn’t expecting to get this far… with you picking up.” He laughed breathily. “But, eh, we’ve been working all day trying to resolve this. My manager is going through some scenarios of how all this could go. There’s really no denying that we’re… that we’re linked.” Keith caught the slight hesitation and how Lance cleared his throat when he said it, almost as if he were wary to bring up the issue of “soulmates” or even insinuate to it. Keith didn’t really blame him, after he went off earlier. “And Carla, my manager thinks we can run with it. Say how yes, we’re soulmates, and no, we’re not dating and  _ yes _ , we’re both really angry at how out of hand this shit has got. Set the record right and drag that channel to hell and back for what the said.” He paused for a second before a tiny laugh passed through the receiver. “I might just email Ellen fucking DeGeneres.”

    Keith quirked his lips and settled back into his chair. He drew his feet up with him into the seat and propped his canvas at a slant on his knees. He continued to draw the outline. “And how did they get the old picture of mine?” he asked quietly. “And how did they find my deadname?” He hadn’t used that name in years - and he hadn’t used it on his socials for that long, either. They had to scroll way far down, all the way to twenty twelve, until  _ maybe _ they would find something. Even if they  _ did _ scroll that far down, how were they going to ignore the unlimited amount of posts containing information about his gender? There were countless posts that pictured him at Pride events, neat little buttons a friend around campus had once made for him, showcasing “he/him” pronouns in curly fonts.  _ Ask about my pronouns _ shirt, proudly worn after first buying it…

    Hell, he’s sure that he posted the process of getting all of his hair cut off.

    It frustrated him to no end.

    Lance sighed tightly. “I don’t know,” he murmured, as if it made him extremely uncomfortable to even talk about it. “Yet another thing we have to figure out.” There was an odd sound on the line before Lanc said something again, though this time it was muffled and Keith had to ask him to repeat himself. “I said I’m tired,” he repeated, louder now. There was a shuffle of fabric as Lance gave a little yawn, “I’m tired and this is complete bullshit.”

    Keith hummed a little and let one foot drop off the edge of the seat. “Yeah, I know.” He settled into the chair and watched as a sudden little breeze flipped his curtains aside and farther into the little apartment. The stringy leaves of his potted plant danced in the warm air, whipping and twirling about as he listened to Lance continue breathing through the phone. His neck ached slightly from holding the phone between his ear and shoulder, but he made no move just yet.

    “I’m so fucking sorry about this Keith,” Lance said. Keith took in a sharp breath at the sincerity of his voice. “I  _ know  _ it sounds like bullshit, but I meant what I said earlier. I didn’t want this to happen and I hate that it did. I hate it more than… god, everything? Like, even more than when I come home for dinner and Minnie calls me  _ Lionel _ all day for laughs, okay. It makes me sick and I wouldn’t wish it on anybody.”

    Keith’s lips pursed and he looked down to his canvas. Half finished in the bright, fluorescent light. The lamp to his right over by the tv casting a thin shadow of his hand down onto the canvas.

    “I’ll accept your apology,” Keith says, stopping short in forgiveness. It still hurts. He stills feels in in his chest, he still can’t stop thinking about it. The wires still need to be patched, defenses to put up and his mental state explored. He hadn’t been able to wear anything even remotely fitting his form ever since he saw that. Even now, changed out of his gym clothes (he fully intended to go, but he just… hadn’t. After Caroline left, he couldn’t find the energy) he was still in a tee that billowed around him and obscured the lines of his body. He had no idea how he was supposed to survive going to class tomorrow. He knows he has to, as final exams are so close and that he couldn’t afford to miss any classes.

_ What a goddamn convenient time to find your soulmate _ , Keith murmured internally, tapping his pencil against the side of his canvas.

    “You don’t have to.” Keith quirked his eyebrow at Lance’s words. “Everything you said this morning was true. I don’t expect you to forgive me just because we have matching Soul Marks. And it was a dumb excuse, earlier, too. So, like, if you want to not ever see me again, then that’s cool. Obviously, it’s not cool because, I mean, I really like you and I think you’re amazing and it’d really hurt if you never spoke to me again, but hey, like I said, it’s cool.” He took a breath from his from his ramblings and clicked his tongue. Keith wondered what kind of face he was making, if he looked as distraught as he sounded.

    Keith trained his eyes down on the soft graphite lines, his steady fingers holding the pencil, holding the tip still along the side of his canvas. The smell of oil paints lingered in his nose as he blinked in surprise to himself.

    “Like you said,” Lance went on, “a relationship takes work.”  _ And communication, _ Keith almost heard. “Trust and bonds and all, too. I’m…” Keith heard him take a steadying breath, it was slightly quivering at first, but was strong on the exhale. “I’m willing to work at it, if you are. I want to get to know you more, Keith, ‘cause I  _ really _ like you.”

    He let the sentence hang in the air for a few seconds before reaffirming that Keith had the final say in the matter and at one word, Lance wouldn’t push it. He’d be gone.

    Keith teethed at his bottom lip for a moment. “I want to work at it, too,” he said. He tossed his canvas aside so that it narrowly missed the paint pallette when it landed on the table. He drew his legs up again and crossed them under himself. He took his phone in his hand so he could press it to his ear more comfortably. “And it’s… nice to hang around you, too-,” he paused to laugh a bit, “-even if your friends are damn crazy.”

    Lance spluttered indignantly and Keith could just see the hand splayed out on his chest. “How dare you!” he cried. “My friends and co-workers are the epitome of sanity! They are literal perfect people and I will fight you for their honor!”

    Keith rolled his eyes, that all-too-familiar smile creeping up on his mouth. “You’d better not, I’d floor your ass so fast, Vasquez.”

    “Pfft,” Lance spluttered. “I once trained with a black belt karate master in preparation for a film.  _ You’d _ better watch  _ your _ ass.”

    Keith snorted his laughter. “You’re ridiculous.”

    “I know.” Keith could hear the laughter in his voice. “Are we okay, now?” he asked, almost timid.

    Keith paused for a second, his fingers twisting into the fabric of his pants. Were they okay? No, he didn’t think so. This, this trouble that they’ve only just run into, it cut into Keith’s stomach with a hot knife and planted a sick feeling there. Worry, doubt, dysphoria flooded his veins regularly ever since that morning. It was almost hard to breath, especially when he had to choke through it and explain the situation to Julie just afterwards.

    It flooded him when he tried to call his mother, hesitating each time before going off to do a chore to justify his procrastination in calling her. Shit, he still had to call her, didn’t he?

    Lance’s soft call of his name drew him back to the moment. He still had to give an answer.

    So were they okay?

    “We’re… better, Lance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope that you enjoyed it!
> 
> Please drop me a comment, or come see me on tumblr @youngtiredandhungry !
> 
> Huge thanks to @mikiri on tumblr for being my ever amazing beta


	10. No Such Thing As Perfect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALRIGHT-Y FAM.  
> Trigger warnings, maybe?  
> The T-slur is used once in the chapter. Briefly, but it's still used. There is also misgendering that happens for a bit. And not by accident. Please proceed with caution. If I'm asked, I will bold the parts so you can avoid it. Simply send me an ask and it will get done

         Every hit at the punching bag felt freeing. Every hit mirrored Keith’s pen and how it had tapped on his text book page anxiously just an hour before, in class. The hair that was now either tied in a low pony tail, or slicked with sweat had stood on end at the feeling of his classmate’s eyes on him. His ears picked up so many little comments, wonders from all around him. Now, they swirled around in his ears, his loud music doing all but nothing to keep his mind off it.

_ “Oh my God, wait. Isn’t that dude’s name Kate or something?” _

_ “Shiiiiitttt, I had no idea they’d have any connection to fame.” _

_ “Did you cop a look at his soulmark? Yeah, it matches that movie star’s, too!” _

    He tried to keep his eyes glued to the professor, keeping his attention on her lecture about the summer assignments they had. It was hard, needless to say, especially when one of the students in the front row had lifted their phone up with the front facing camera on to look up at Keith, who just so happened to be sitting on the  _ seventh fucking row up _ . The professor’s back was turned, so she hadn’t caught the movement until the student had stopped on their own. Keith couldn’t deny the subtle straightening of his spine, or how his frown deepened dangerously.

    Every bit of pent-up energy was finally finding its release into the punching bag. With ever hit, his muscles burned, it felt as if a weight was suddenly lifted off his shoulders and his veins was being pumped with a type of drug that let him finally stop  _ thinking _ .

    He had wanted to bounce his foot under his desk, but now he was able to dance on the balls of his feet, to skitter around the bag until he jabbed with startling force. Every bead of sweat that dribbled down his temple, no matter how gross it felt, made Keith feel  _ free _ , free from all those fucking  _ eyes _ of his classmates. The rumbling of a bass in his ears, in a foreign tongue in his mind kept him from hearing the whispers, now. He concentrated on the words, concentrated on heat of his skin, the burn in his muscles, the steady, deep heave of his chest. As long as he kept moving, then he would be fine.

    Lance had told him that might happen - he said that it would be good if he stayed home for the next few days and possibly got his work or some notes emailed to him, but Keith shot him down instantly. He never did well with other people’s notes, he found them confusing as hell and couldn’t follow them for anything. Besides that, the poor sap who took them might have missed some detail that he  _ needed _ so desperately.

    So he sat in class, let his skin crawl. He let his muscles tense at the constant confused buzzing around him. He remembered after the class had ended and he was gathering his bag. The shiver that ran down his spine at a girl, a freshmen hissing  _ tranny _ under her breath. How she had ranted on and on about how lesbians were “dangerous and deceitful”. She had used another slur, and Keith had nearly snapped at her. He was  _ so ready _ to. He was hot all over, so full of anger and dangerous energy.

    In the end, the girl was snapped at. It wasn’t by Keith, but by a young man who stomped up from two rows down and called her out on her shit. Keith thanked him fully, a softness in his eyes. He introduced himself as Trevor and Keith smiled fully at him. After that class, which was his last, he hurried off campus. He rode hard until he came to a familiar gym. It was too far from his apartment to walk most days, but he always rode his bike instead of commuting by taxi.

    And that brought him to here. His hits slowed in pace until he let his arms hang heavily. His lungs ached with every breath he took, screaming at him to stop over exerting himself. He leaned his forehead against the fabric surface off the bag and let himself breathe. He gave in to the burn in his chest, but had to fight the one prickling at the backs of his eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut and twisted his mouth into a deep frown.

    The insistent music all the sudden felt too loud against his ears. The heat on his skin was all the sudden smothering him and he had the urge to rip the loose shirt off his shoulders, simply to let the air swirl around him, to cool his skin and dry his sweat. Maybe, if he stalled hard enough, the heat and the ache and the burn would all consume him, bring him to a higher plane and drop him there permanently. A higher plane where he wouldn’t have to worry about the whispering, the withering looks, the slurs, the  _ hate _ .

    He wondered, not for the first time that day, what Higher Power he pissed off to fucking deserve this. Had he disrupted some kind of universal rule system and this was his punishment for it? Karma was a bitch, they said. Keith wondered if that applied to all the time, or just when you do something bad. He couldn’t remember  _ doing _ anything bad, not anything that would deserve  _ this _ , anyway.

This was just goddamn ridiculous.

    Maybe it was because he and Lance hadn’t gone about this like those shitty cliche stereotypes and teen novel tropes. Because they hadn’t instantly made out, had sex and got married, they were being punished by the universe. Because they weren’t  _ perfect _ , they were being punished for it.

He stopped himself short.

    That wasn’t perfection, he reminded himself. That’s just unrealistic. Souped up expectations of gradeschoolers. His parents claimed those expectations, once upon a time. They had begun dating right off the goddamn bat, married not long after. They pushed through distaste, realizations of “Oh my God! This person has flaws!” and quirks that they hadn’t gave themselves time to get used to before they made the commitment of marriage. Keith’s mother still had the picture, both of them grinning happily, joined at the hands on display on the fireplace. Her wedding band sat defiantly in front of it, though. She made a point to never wear it - to let the tan line that once sat there proudly fade into nothingness.

    The photo was a reminder to Keith. It was a reminder to that day when their parents had sat Kevin, Caroline and him down in the living room as they themselves sat on different chairs, sullen looks on their faces. Caroline riddled with anxiety as she clutched Keith’s hand, wondering what the hell was going on.

    Keith, at the age of fourteen, was told that his parents were splitting up. They were going to try to divorce, but Keith knew how unlikely it was for them to get one. It was hard to find people who would divorce a Soul Marked couple. Even harder with the couples with children.

    At fourteen, every thought that Keith had, every expectation was dashed upon the rocks. As their parents sat so far away from each other (when had their problems began? Why had he not noticed them?) and told them that  _ sometimes _ , soulmates weren’t actually meant for each other and that sometimes the universe, in all its beautiful glory, makes mistakes. Sometimes people don’t love each other as much as the universe thinks they do, or ought to.

    Keith had to console Caroline that night. Through his own worries, his own swirling process of broken and derailed thoughts (where will they live? Will they have to switch schools? What were they going to tell their friends?), he pushed through, held his sister tight and told her that sure, even if her timer ticked on into oblivion, or if she found her soulmate and they weren’t meant to be together, they would still have each other. Plus Kevin, they were reminded as the boy appeared in Caroline’s doorway with a sleeve of Oreos and a small statement of “Well, this is shitty.”

There was no such thing as perfect.

    Even with his friend’s parents, most of them were soulmates, sure, but they still fought. He knew some who were downright shitty to their families. They were Soul Marked, and that didn’t make them perfect. Deeper than soulmates, they were people. People made mistakes. People weren’t perfect. It’s idiotic to assume that certain people were perfect for other people, just because they’ve got a couple of pretty marks on their skin that matches their partner’s.

    He blew out a breath of air. His lungs had stopped burning. His skin was no longer crawling with heat. He was left with clammy feeling skin and a pit of deep thoughts. He pulled away from the bag, wincing at the odd feeling of his sweaty skin peeling back from the vinyl. His playlist had come to a stop, and he was grateful for it. It ears throbbed from the bits to his earbuds and the cord was beginning to irritate him. 

    He ambled over to his water bottle and drank deeply before heading to the locker rooms. His hair was sticking to the back of his neck and his felt simply… gross. He gathered his things to take a quick shower and as he moved, there was a lingering tingle deep within his muscles and he was grateful for it. It lingered, reminding him of the heaving chest, the overheated skin. It helped him remember what he had just felt, the things he had just considered.

    It’s true, he mused when he twisted the shower knob on and drew the thick plastic curtain over the entrance to the shower, they weren’t perfect. He and Lance, they were anything but. It had been a wild ride so far; he had gone from finding his super-famous soulmate, to talking to his circle of close friends within two days, had been on a date with him and slept with him on a fucking beach before everything had gone to hell in a handbasket. Emotions spiked, tempers rose, he screamed. He felt guilty, he felt dysphoric, he felt rage, he felt an odd sense of longing and overall, just… exhausted.

    He almost wished that his timer had kept ticking when Lance entered the coffee shop. He  _ almost _ wished that he would have met a boring-ass man named Phillip and they would grow old together with 4.5 children and a nice goddamn apartment where he could hang all his pictures and art pieces on the walls.

    Another side of his brain resented that idea. He liked Lance, he  _ really _ did. The past few days had been crazy, and endlessly difficult, but, he did have a little fun before everything went wrong. He had fun when they went to the beach, and before, when he had caught the Pidgey before Lance had, cupping the chilled drink in his hands as the wind ruffled his hair. Lance made him laugh with his stupid comments and jokes. He had enjoyed keeping up with a conversation surrounding the pros and cons of becoming the proud parents of a goldfish at 02:00 one morning. He had regretted it sorely the next morning, but dammit, he had enjoyed talking with all those people he still refused to believe were the stars he saw on tv.

    He didn’t regret meeting Lance, not really. The events that happened  _ after _ he met Lance? This discomfort, wondering eyes and prodding questions? Yes. He  _ hated _ that part about everything.

    He got a spike in emotion in his chest every time he looked down to his left hand. He hated to admit it, but his mouth often formed into a little awed “o” whenever he spotted his mark. He hated to feel his heart leap when he caught sight of it. It was cliche. It was what everyone expected to feel when they found their soulmate. It was ridiculous and he wanted to curse at himself every time it happened. He wanted to dig out the pair of leather gloves gifted to him be Kevin three birthdays ago, just to hide the mark. Just so he wouldn’t see that crinkled petal and want to see its twin on Lance’s hand.

    He ignored the beating in his chest and breathed. He scrubbed at his scalp with soft nails and willed the thoughts from his head.

         Three quarters of an hour later had Keith coming into his apartment, his body buzzing with a pleasant tiredness as he went through the motions of putting his bag away, getting a glass of water and ultimately ending up comfortably flopping down onto the couch with a long breath.

_     I have work tomorrow, _ Keith mused as he leaned back into the couch cushions. He sighed softly and tucked his feet under himself, lips in a thin little line and eyes on his phone.

    Thankfully, the insistent chirping had stopped in its high frequency. Lance had told him the night before how to shut notifications off so that only select people would pop up if needed. It was much appreciated. His head swam when he thought about all of the notifications popped up in rapid succession. The comments on his Instagram were insane. Most overwhelmingly nice, people screaming about his face, complimenting his make up (several heart-eyed emojis were on those comments, along with the fingernail painting one. He wasn’t too sure how to take that one) and generally being sweet people. There were others, however, who took the comments made by the girl in the classroom earlier and took them  _ so _ much further.

    He hadn’t looked at the comments since then.

    Instead, he fixed his attention on the newly buzzing Voltron notifications.

    He was still apart of Lance’s group chat, it seemed. He tapped at his phone and brought up the chat. Several gifs were pinned to the chat, all of the same man. Keith recognized him after a second as Lance’s father. He was dressed casually, but seemed to be backed into a corner with a journalist trying to speak to him. He thumbed over the lone video clip and it began to play.

    The man had a full,  _ very _ thick Brooklyn accent when he spoke. He jammed his hands in his pockets at the question the reporter asked him and replied with “I’m sorry, but my son asked his mothers and me not to give out any comments.” He paused, his eyebrows raising. “Fuck, does this count as a comment?” He rubbed at his forehead with a overdramatic sigh. “Goddamn it,” he muttered. “Look, Lance, I know you’re probably going to see this somewhere-,” he looked straight into the camera, his eyebrow cocked carefully, “call your fucking grandma, she’s worried.”

    Lance’s caption under the video was a beautiful: “LOOK AT MY FATHER THO I LOVE HIM”

    Keith laughed, full and loud and let himself smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but I think we're finally unlocking Keith's back story, yes?
> 
> I want to thank everyone for your support so far! It's truly blown me away by how kind everyone is, omfg. Your comments, kudos, messages on tumblr give me such life and motivation to write on with this story.
> 
> And holy shit, guys, I have the best beta. Ever. @mikiri from tumblr is literally the best and that's all I have to say on the subject. Thank you so much!! <3
> 
> Please drop me a comment and tell me what you thought! I'm also on tumblr @youngtiredandhungry!


	11. Take a Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Hamilton. I'm not even sorry.

         Keith held his phone lightly between his fingers, tapping it rhythmically against his thigh.

    He was at work, currently sitting in the little break room with a half eaten breakfast croissant in front of him. The shitty overhead light flickered and somehow added to Keith’s worried mood.

    He had put it off long enough; he had stalled far too long. He’d tried - God as his  _ witness _ , he did. Once he had her number all dialed with his index finger over the call button before he had chickened out.

_ Chickened out. _ Keith Kogane, master of fucking shit up because he acts too quickly on impulse was chickening out of calling his own  _ mother _ . It’s completely fucking asinine.

    The guilt of not calling simmered in his gut until it had boiled over and every time he thought about his mother, the bile in the back of his throat for keeping it off for so long. It was Wednesday now. He finished all of the final exams he felt he was no way ready for in just two days and plans to go out on Saturday, courtesy of Julie, insisting that they should celebrate being done with the semester. This was the only time he was going to be able to call and explain himself.

    He took one last breath, one last prayer to whatever Higher Power listened, whoever had been shitting on him so insistently lately, that this would go to his favor. He dialed the number and pressed the phone to his ear. It rang a few times before his mother picked up the line. He counted five rings before she accepted the call with a cheerful greeting.

_ Well, here we go _ , he thought, shifting in his seat. “Hi, mom.”

    Predictably, it didn’t go as predicted. His loose plans to tell her civilly about Lance turned from a nice fluid outline to solidified mud in little more than six seconds. Predictably, his mother’s curiosity and shock concerning his soulmate’s identity turned into ruthless anger as she demanded Lance’s motives concerning the picture and the broadcast. Keith stopped just short of telling her about the hefty internet gossip running around in his feed everyday.

    Though, predictably, she had taken a moment to collect herself, saying something along the lines of “Caroline must be very jealous of you, yes? I know she loves his movies.”

    Predictably, his mother had assured him that he owed nothing to Lance and could cut ties if he wished. There was nothing keeping Keith from storming out and never speaking to him again.

    Finally, as Keith previously predicted, but needed nonetheless, Keith had gotten a repeat of a talk he had only received twice in his life. She told him that he should be secure in his gender, in his identity, because that was him. He was  _ Keith _ Kogane. There was nothing anyone could say or do to change that, so he might as well take pride in it. As much pride as she put in him. She was his mother and he loved him and was  _ so _ proud of him and the struggles he was overcoming. She talked him through his concerns and reassured him that they were well placed. He apologized for not telling her sooner, but she said that she would forgive him - if he would come to one of her yoga classes the following week. He laughed, and said he would think about it.

    If his eyes were cloudy and slightly red when he went back to work, no one had pointed it out.

         The phone call was pushed out of his mind as he didn’t have the time to pay attention to anything but finals for the following days. It seemed as if the rest of the students who had paid any attention to Keith had gotten that memo as well, because they kept well enough away from him as they tended to their own affairs.

    The days passed in a blur of notes, four hours of sleep in total and the wretched smell of highlighters and yesterday's coffee. He was sure that the ever-present muck in his eyes would permanently seal his eyes shut after this. He would go blind and then he would have to explain to his grandchildren how he went blind at a young age because he couldn’t contend with college life.

    After his last class, he was free to stumble into the apartment at two in the afternoon and unsteadily make his way so he could flop down on his bed, press his face into his pillow and just  _ sleep _ . Preferably until the turn of the century would be great, thanks.

    Even if he didn’t get quite that far, he was still grateful for the long rest he had gotten, stretching until the early morning hours. He had woken up for around an hour the night before, but dropped off again quickly.

    When he woke up for the last time, it was to a dark room and with his cheek pushed into a drool soaked spot on his pillow case. He rubbed tiredly at his eyes as he sat up, muttering little curses and breathing soft sighs as he went. The angry red of the alarm clock he never actually used told him that it was a little after five in the morning. Groaning softly, he twisted, stretching out his arms and bowing his back until he felt several satisfying pops along his spine. He collapsed back onto his pillows with a quiet sound.

    Several minutes later, he was dragging himself out of bed and stumbling down the little hallway that led into the living room. He went and made the morning’s coffee before he made his way out onto the tiny balcony. He unlocked and slid open the glass door so that the little breeze could filter itself into the apartment. He stepped out onto the space and took in a deep breath. The wind felt nice on his face and how it filtered through his hair as he leaned against the railing looking over the street below. Early morning commuters dotted the road below,  joggers were out and if Keith saw correctly, there was a young person in last night’s dress ambling up the sidewalk, a bounce in their step and their shoes in their hand.

    The sun wouldn’t come up for another half an hour or so, but the sky was lightening all the same. It was just dark enough for the street lamps to still be on.

    A soft buzz in one of his pockets had him jumping. His moment of peace disturbed, he straightened up a bit off the railing and patted yesterday’s rumpled clothes for his phone. Drawing it out of his front left pocket, he found the device all but dead - the effect of being too busy to remember to plug it in. He slid it on and cocked an eyebrow at the early morning notification.

    He slipped into the nearly inactive Voltron chat, wondering lightly who else would be awake so early. Turns out, it was Katie. Glancing up at the previous chat logs, he began to wonder just how much he had missed since he had put himself on Final Lockdown; pictures littered the chat, most of them with Katie and Matt, glasses of differing types of wines between them. Pictures of parties and, judging from the other people depicted and their likenesses to the Holt siblings, familial events.

    He glanced down to the newest text.

ActualSkyPidgeon: Matts being lonely and gay and im Done With Him.

    He breathed a soft laugh, letting the noise mingle on the early morning air.

Keith2urheart: honestly im matt

ActualSkyPidgeon: ok 1:

ActualSkyPidgeon: !!! ur alive !!! we thought you died man or like finally dumped Lance

ActualSkyPidgeon: 2 why tf r u up its like 4 there

    Keith shook his head, a smile on his face.

Keith2urheart: it’s like 530. finals tried to murder me and im only up because i fell asleep at like 2 yesterday

ActualSkyPidgeon: pm?

Keith2urheart: yea

ActualSkyPidgeon: dammmmmmmmmmmmnn boi   
Tho how’d your finals go?   
god awful?

Keith2urheart: Isn’t that usual?

    Keith moved to sit in the little striped patio chair, propping his feet up on the railing.

Keith2urheart: I feel like Im dead inside out

    His screen flashed with the low battery notification and it had him getting up so he could make his way back into his room. The phone vibrated in his hand, chirping as it did so just as he entered the hallway.

ActualSkyPidgeon: at least its over now right?

Keith2urheart: Maybe the classes are

Keith2urheart: I’m being forced into clubbing tonight smh

    He plugged in his phone and set it down on the small desk beside his headboard. He moved across the little space, around the bed so he could reach the windows. He pulled at the edges of the blackout curtains and let the soft light in from the morning. He cracked both windows and let the air flutter in to ruffle gently at his hair. He let his eyes slip shut and breath for a minute, inhaling deep lungfuls of cool air.

    He pulled away and took a seat at his desk and picked up his phone when Pidge went a reply. Well, it wasn’t just Pidge who replied.

ActualSkyPidgeon: clubbing?? I wanna come

MiceWhisperer: i haven’t gone clubbing in ages omg

ActualSkyPidgeon: good morning allura

MiceWhisperer: morning, love <3

    Keith settled into the net backing of his chair and moved his thumbs, typing out his reply while he swivelled left and right in his chair.

Keith2urheart: im dreading going out honestly (hi allura)

MiceWhisperer: gm!

Keith2urheart: im not good in clubs.

ActualSkyPidgeon: dude

MiceWhisperer: omg

ActualSkyPidgeon: lovely innocent bean

MiceWhisperer: baby boy

ActualSkyPidgeon: how do you Not od clubs? its like. Great. Pumpin music

MiceWhisperer: Place to meet new people,

ActualSkyPidgeon: shots

MiceWhisperer: people who Buy you shots

ActualSkyPidgeon: Allura you know you’re good for the shots

MiceWhisperer: i kow but its nice to have one bougt for me sometimes

Keith2urheart: everything on that list is why i dont do clubs

ActualSkyPidgeon: !!! How !!! This is not cool !!!

Keith2urheart: idk I don’t like to get drunk in unsafe spaces and like shots/drinks can get drugged? And I am a social caterpillar.

ActualSkyPidgeon: ur gonna be hella unconfortable tonight eh?

Keith2urheart: Yes.

MiceWhisperer: I have an idea tho

ActualSkyPidgeon: what

MiceWhisperer: SINCE we haven’t had a chance to hang out yet we could go to the club WITH keith, yes?   
Id be a good chance to meet hang out and get to kno each other!

ActualSkyPidgeon: there are faults in your plan

Keith2urheart: like the one where i still go out to the club

ActualSkyPidgeon: yes but also: IM IN FRANCE AND CANT COME

Keith2urheart: you’re in france?

ActualSkyPidgeon: Yeah for a family reunion and wine and parties

MiceWhisperer: listen pidge we cant wait for you to get home

MiceWhisperer: we’ll just take one for the team and take keith out for the night   
@hunkoburninlove @thetailor @ragretfuldad203 wake tf up y’all we need to make plans.

    “Oh my god,” Keith muttered. With a quick glance, he saw that it was nearing six o’clock now. It was unlikely that the others would be up at such an early hour, but that didn’t stop Allura from trying to contact them, along with another person under the name “nevilsmithe”. Keith had never talked with them before, but his curiosity was sparked quickly as Allura added them to the chat.

    After a small excuse to the Pidge and Allura, he dropped his phone onto the desk and got up from his chair so he could amble into the kitchen to scrounge up something for breakfast. When he came back twenty minutes later, a plate of eggs and toast in one hand, coffee in the other, it seemed as if they had been successful in rousing the others from sleep. His phone’s screen was lit up with constant new texts from the chat that had since been renamed “Join the Club.” He sat at his desk and watched for a moment.

TheTailor: normally i would be totally for this but rn???

TheTailor: idk if it’s a good idea

MiceWhisperer: if we’re careful it should be fine right? Small clubs and layin low by the bar?

HunkOBurninLove: I hate to be the voice of reason

HunkOBurninLove: - always

HunkOBurninLove: But lance is right, it’s a bad idea for them rn. Even if he and Keith were just like there, chilling or whatever there’s still press risk and press risk turns into more attention being drawn to lance and Keith

    He… hadn’t thought of that, really. Julie hadn’t either, he’d bet.

TheTailor: exactly! Thank you buddy

MiceWhisperer: ok i concede

RagretfulDad203: Beisdes Hunk’s point it’s a danger to get the group drunk - especially in a public club. We dont need any accidents/scandals

TheTailor: OK BEYOND THAT WHAT ABOUT KEITH

    Keith, in turn lifted an eyebrow when he saw the message. He took a bite of his toast and watched the jumping dots as Lance was typing again.

TheTailor: its just as much of a danger for Keith as it is for us bc of harassment and his face getting splashed around every goddamn tabloid in the fucking land like just because we arent there doesnt mean itll be a chill crowd

Keith2urheart: i didn’t even think about that tbh

    Keith took a drink of his coffee, eyebrows furrowed. He hadn’t taken that into account. He leaned back in his seat and swivelled back and forth as he nursed his coffee cup.

    It was easy to nurse bad feelings against Lance - because of him, Keith had been harassed more than a few times, listened to the whispers from students around campus, saw hurtful words directed towards him and had generally gotten himself into a rut after they went to the beach.

    When was that? A week ago? God, it felt like so much longer.

    Sure, it was easy to; but Keith found it sort of hard to, in all honestly. Yes, there was underlying bitterness towards the older man that was very clearly seen at most times, but the incident was an accident. Lance had apologized. While Keith hadn’t fully let the affair go, hadn’t fully forgiven him yet, but he knew that Lance was trying to make it better and smooth things over. He nibbled at his lip as he thought. Lance was concerned about his wellbeing, it was easy enough to see.

    Before anyone else was given the chance to reply, Keith leaned forward and snatched his phone up off the desk.

Keith2urheart: so public places are out of the question.

    It was enough to deflect off his previous comment and change the subject. Then again, it also implied that their plans to meet up were still intact. He wasn’t against the idea with meeting up with them - on the contrary, he thought that it would be cool to see them all in person. He just… didn’t really see how it could happen, especially on such short notice.

RagretfulDad203: seems so

MiceWhisperer: we could tone it down and just meet up at my apartment? Provided that you all provide the refreshments such as the drinks

ActualSkyPidgeon: I’m all for it :DDD

TheTailor: goddamn the sass

HunkOBurninLove: I can bring snacks

TheTailor: I got drinks

Keith2urheart: you guys dont have to do this   
I was gonna shoot for staying home anyway

MiceWhisperer: nOW YOU LISTEN HERE

ActualSkyPidgeon: uh oh here we go

MiceWhisperer: YOUVE JUST GOT DONE WITH A SEMESTER OF YOUR EDUCATION AND ARE GETTING LAUNCHED INTO SUMMER BREAK   
YOUVE BEEN IN THE TABS ALL WEEK AND BOI HAVE I SEEN RESPONSES   
YOU NEED A BREAK™ AND WE ARE PREPARED TO GIVE IT TO YOU

RagretfulDad203: if you want it. we’re not going to force you into something you don’t want to do

TheTailor: We probably wouldn’t do anything more than like sit around with sponge cake and some Netflix tbh

    Keith teethed softly into his lip, took a drink of his lukewarm coffee and sighed. He weighed the pros and cons for a minute.

    The Pros? He would be able to meet them all face to face (except for Pidge, he remembered if a little sadly) and get out of the house, but into a safe space he could possibly be comfortable in.

    Cons? Taxi money and the inevitable discomfort of being in the same room with Lance.

    He hadn’t  _ seen _ his soulmate since they were together in his hallway, when Lance had kissed his cheek before departing to the elevator. Distractedly, his fingertips traced along his right cheek bone, ghosting over face and remembering how Lance’s lips brushed so nicely across his skin.

    Keith blinked three times, jerked his hand from his face and looked down at the phone. No one had spoken, waiting for his response. Slowly, he flexed his fingers and tapped at the screen.

Keith2urheart: what’s your address?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me - BACK AT IT AGAIN WITH THE STUPID CHATS  
> Writing texts is like eating Pringles. You can't fucking stop and then you run yourself into a self-hatred abyss. And it's all dumb, to boot.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter! Things are getting a little better for our guy, yes? I love him, I really do. He is my beautiful, precious son. I'm just an awful parent.
> 
> Mikiri beta'd this! Once again, thank you so much!
> 
> Please leave me a comment! I love every single one. You guys are simply amazing!  
> My tumblr is @youngtiredandhungry , be sure to check me out. I post updates about this fic/other writings, usually my moaning when I get distracted, but you know. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	12. Flours In Your Hair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who is, in fact, not dead!
> 
> ...Me. It's me. And ShIRO BC I HAVE FAITH™ IN THE CREATORS.

         The conversation regarding the evening’s plans was an easy one. Julie had taken it well. Very well, considering that she was also inviting a few classmates who had majors similar to her own. At the mention of the very real concern with press, she had agreed instantly.

    The constant Voltron conversation that lasted throughout the day? Now that one was a little harder. The chat was updated at regular intervals as the group prepared for their get together at Allura’s. “Get together” didn’t cover it anymore. Keith watched in horror as the chat was filled with update after update of a little get together turning into a private party.

    There were processes, fully documented as Hunk sneaked around the city, gathering cheesy, shiny lettering and other decorations to string up on the walls, Shiro browsing a little grocery store’s cake selection. He ended up getting a lot of sponge cake, per Lance’s previous prediction and nearly a cart full of strawberries, other fruits and no less than four cans of canned whipped cream. He decided that he might just politely decline if he was offered this, instead of bringing his intolerance into the Craziness of Preparation.

    Though he asked,  _ many times _ , they told him that all he had to do was show up. Lance had the drinks covered, they had a cake and… shitty decorations, apparently. They were good and he didn’t have to do anything.

    So he turned from watching in horror to doing his laundry, as something to kill time and distract him from the insistent buzzing from his phone and the ever active chat. He ticked off various little tasks that needed done until around five o’clock, and then he was showering and calling a cab as he struggled to pull on a pair of jeans one-handedly as he pressed the cell to his ear.

    Close to an hour in rush time traffic, Keith was stepping paying the cabbie and entering Allura’s apartment building. He took the elevator up to ninth and went down the hall until he came to 112B. His fingers tapped along the seam running down his pants, impatient and skin buzzing. He hovered by the door for the briefest of seconds before he rapped twice on the door - perhaps a little harder than intended. The door was opened a second later, showing off a large man with a soft face and glowing brown eyes. Hunk grinned down at him through flour splotched on his face and ruffled in his hair.

    “Keith! Glad you could make it!” he burst, smile intact as he brought his hand up and offered it lightly. Keith took it, his lips quirking up on a smile.

    “You guys didn’t need to do this,” he said, shaking Hunk’s hand, if a little awkwardly, “it’s fine, you know.” Hunk laughed and pulled him inside; shut the door softly behind them, cutting off the loud ruckus from further on in the apartment from the hallway.

    “It’s the least we could do.” He shrugged. “Especially Lance, you know?” he muttered conspiratorially, a twinkle in his eye. Keith’s smile twitched downward and he exhaled lightly, almost silently. A phone rang before Hunk could have possibly noticed the change in his expression. Hunk looked to his cell phone and raised his eyes back to Keith, “Speak of the devil,” he laughed with a start. “Here, you should probably head in there and see Allura. She’s been dying to meet you.” He turned and pointed down the little entryway and crooked his hand to the left. “The kitchen is that way.” Keith took off to pick his way through the apartment, towards the source of the loud noises being made further in.

    He looked around as the tiny entryway led off into a beautiful, spacious apartment with tall windows that showed the evening Los Angeles sky.

Every inch of it was covered in god-awful decorations: pink streamers, red glittering letters hanging above the tv  _ Congratulations! _ A slew of party favors among the coffee table’s usual book residents...

    The pitted living room was floored with lightly stained wood, matching the light walls and making the room seem larger still. It was furnished with two large L shaped couches pushed together to make a horseshoe facing the television and another set of tall windows fitted with blackout curtains that were currently tethered to the sides of the window frames, letting in the natural light. The far wall behind the couches held a mix match of colorful, abstract art. It was all light colors, primarily blues and greens, further solidifying the openness and the positivity of the space. It was a happy home.

    The art pieces were something Keith could perhaps paint in his sleep. He’d be able to mirror patterns and abstract feelings, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to achieve the  _ feel _ that these paints had. All of his pieces of late were darker, the lines sharper and possibly edging on violent. The happiness projected in these pieces was something he hadn’t been able to take for himself in a while. Recently, when he painted, the only feelings projected were dark, deep and just  _ un _ happy. He was unhappy with the results, unhappy with the feelings that twisted at his innards when he looked at them.

    He shook his head, exhaled quietly and went in. He crooked to the right in the little hallway off the living room, following the sounds of clattering pans and glass lids. He stepped into the kitchen doorway and froze.

    There was flour everywhere, littering the cabinets and splattering down to kiss the floor in beautiful patterns. Popcorn littered the air, along with exclamations and loud giggles mixed with curses. Allura and Shiro stood at the stove over a pot overflowing with popcorn, spilling to the stove and the floor and popping straight up into the air.

    When Keith stepped into the room, two things happened. The first was, when his foot fell, a little cloud of white flour poofed into the air. At the little white mushroom cloud, as if summoned, a little puffball came padding up with him and began curling around his ankles. The little bell on the cat’s collar jingled quickly as she did so, drawing Shiro and Allura’s attentions from the stove.

    Allura’s mouth broke out into a grin and her eyes lit up so bright Keith might have had to get sunglasses. She shoved the wooden spoon she held to Shiro’s chest and went to Keith, embracing him tightly. “Keith!” she burst, “I’m so happy to finally meet you!” It was odd to hear her talk without the accent she used with her character on Altea. Without the British feel to her voice, Keith thought that there was just something missing, though the touch of what was something distinctly northeastern made him feel warm, like his mother speaking calming words to him.

    Keith’s eyes flicked to Allura’s face and over her shoulder to Shiro several times, clearly concerned. Shiro wielded the wooden spoon as a sword and the glass lid to the pot as a buckler in his epic battle with the popcorn. “Yes, you too,” Keith said distractedly, eyes wide as he stared at Shiro. Allura turned to look just as Shiro slammed the lid down on the pot and stepped back, as if it were going to explode. Keith wasn’t sure that it wouldn’t. “This is…” he trailed off, lacking descriptive words for the shenanigans going on in his midst.

    “A mess?” Allura supplied for him, cocking an eyebrow over at Shiro as he turned off the burner and removed the pan from the heated surface.

    “...dangerous,” Keith put out instead.

    Allura nodded, a resigned look on her face. She bent to scoop up the flour-covered kitten and held it in her arms as she watched Shiro look towards them, leaning his hip against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest. “We were trying to make the popcorn,” Allura explained needlessly. “Coran told us to wait, but I’ve never made popcorn before and I thought that it might be fun.”

    “It wasn’t,” Shiro butt in, sending a scorching look to the pan. “And now,” he looked back to Keith and Allura, a tiny smile on his lips, “we made a bad first impression.”

    Allura laughed, scratching between the kitten’s ears. “I bet ours was better than Lance’s. At least maybe a bit more interesting.” She waggled her eyebrows in Shiro’s direction, causing the man to laugh, rolling his eyes.

    Keith paused, his eyebrows pulled into a furrow. “What do you mean?” he asked, nonplussed.

    “Lance won’t tell us how you met,” Shiro advised. He kept one eye on the noisy pot, but for the most part he began to relax his rigid posture. Keith found himself a little intimidated by the older man, how he called attention and respect simply by leaning against a fucking  _ counter top _ . It was like he had just got back from a meeting with the President than battling an overflowing popcorn pot with a wooden spoon. He played it off by means of hesitating at his words.

    “Why not?” he asked finally. “It’s not really…  _ secret _ material.” Not that he was aware of, anyway. They hadn’t met at some bat, to later go home and fuck each other’s brains out after seeing that they were Soul Marked, stamped with the little crinkled flowers on their thumbs. Neither had they met during some illegal act. Keith remembered once reading a novel about a police officer meeting her soulmate during a drug bust. She was forced to arrest the young woman, a cocaine addict. Their romance progressed after the woman went through several differing rehabilitation programs. Unsurprisingly, the “power of love and of their Soul Marked bond” led them through until both women could be together. Keith’s fifteen year old self quickly remembered why he never read romance novels, and why the constant tick of his timer was fucking terrifying.

    And seeing as their first meeting was at Keith’s work, and the worst part of their meeting was either Lance screaming several different words in his workplace, or his cheesy-as-all-hell Voltron username, Keith wasn’t sure why the story hadn’t been shared with Lance’s (his?) friends yet.

    Allura shrugged and let the kitten down from her arms. The little puffball scampered off, trailing little toe-bean imprints in the flour-covered flooring. “Maybe he doesn’t want us to know the  _ best moment of his life _ ~” Her voice changed pitch and tone, getting just the slightest bit deeper, an accent subtly Brooklyn-area sounding coloring her voice. Keith wasn’t sure why the choice was that one in particular, as in his humble opinion, didn’t sound a bit like his soulmate.

    Shiro had found amusement in this, apparently, as his laugh reverberated throughout the kitchen with Allura’s and Keith’s (though his was at a much lower volume) soon to join.

    Heavy footsteps thudded down the hall as Hunk rejoined them. “Okay! Lance is about eight-ish minutes out. Allura, you really should  _ not _ have let him take care of the alcohol because there are only two choices: red wine and hard liquor.” He grinned at the trio, coming to rest just a little behind Keith and Allura. He was held up his phone as he talked, but after he was finished, he slid it into his back pocket again. “How’s my dough coming?” he asked, changing the subject gracefully as Allura already had her mouth open, ready to berate Lance’s character and liquor choices.

    From Keith’s limited experience with Hunk - over Voltron chats that is, he found Hunk to be sort of a peacekeeper. Lance had regularly called his other soulmate a “literal spot of golden sunshine” and “my great deliverer” and, the most recurring one, “my bromate that I have joined in holy matrihomie because he’s my best bro” or something like that, Keith didn’t exactly remember.

    He watched Hunk cross the kitchen to to large metal bowls that sat next to the refrigerator, towels meticulously draped over them. He lifted one and let out a little whoop, saying “they grow up so fast!” Whether or not the emotional crack in his voice was genuine or not was up for debate.

    “It’s just  _ pizza dough _ , Hunk,” Allura said, sing song voice in tact as she stepped around Keith to dig around in a little pantry-closet-thing positioned behind him. She pulled out a broom and began to sweep around the edges of the floor towards the middle of the room, gathering the flour and popcorn into one neat, powdery, crumbly pile.

    Keith shuffled on his feet, unsure what to do in the gentle lull that had butt itself into their conversation as Allura went about her job, and Hunk poked and prodded at the puffed up dough. Keith met Shiro’s eyes for all of three seconds before he was shuffled out of the way for Allura to sweep in his place. He quietly smacked his lips, running through a list of conversation starters that would have been appropriate. He couldn’t think of anything, tragically. He settled for awkward silences, waiting for Lance to get there because if there was going to be an awkward silence, at least he could take comfort that there was a legit reason other than the fact that he just didn’t know how to deal with these people.

    He could deal with Lance; that much was painfully obvious. They would settle into a little groove of playful banter, avoiding talking about the obvious elephant that stood between them in any conversation that they now had. They ignored the elephant in the room, Lance never brought up the words “soulmate” or “Soul Marked” so Keith didn’t either. Lance would ask him about his day, asking if he had any trouble on campus. Keith would tell him no, even if he did have trouble. There was no sense in causing drama and worry where there ought not be any.

    They ignored the pretty pink elephant in the neon green tutu that they  _ obviously _ needed to discuss, and they went on. They made jokes, Lance made subtly flirtatious remarks that Keith rolled his eyes at and carefully danced around. It was fine. It was  _ good. _

    But this right now? This uncomfortable little feeling tapdancing around in the base of his stomach? That was not good. He wasn’t good at dealing with these people. He didn’t know the cues to interact with them, at least not in person. He could talk to them behind the little anonymity of the chat, where he didn’t have to see direct facial expressions when he made a snappy comeback. He didn’t have to read on their faces and bodies that he had royally fucked up. Now, their body language was all he could see.

    Hunk kept glancing to him over his shoulder, trying and failing colossally to be subtle about it. Allura twisted and ganced at him before squaring her shoulders and looking directly at Shiro. Whatever she mouthed at him was lost to Keith, as her back was turned to him, but Shiro gave a  _ tiny _ one shouldered shrug and made a little swish with his hand. Keith moistened his lips and let out a tiny breath, shifting his foot so that his heel rubbed against the tile flooring.

    As if struck suddenly over the head with a brilliant idea, Hunk let out an excited noise and whipped around to Keith. “Did you say how you met Lance?” he asked, his voice light and eyes bright. “He still hasn’t told us,” he shared, as if Keith hadn’t already known this fact.

    Keith shook his head a little. “No, but I could?” His slow words nearly had Allura dropping the broom.

    “Yes, please!” she said, turning to him again. She grinned, her eyes nearly closing with how large her smile was.

    “Uhm, okay,” he muttered. He made himself comfortable with his hip cocked against the door frame, quietly thinking. “I was on shift at work-,” he pursed his lips, trying to recall the exact details. “Shit, I dunno when it was. Maybe in the morning?” He went about his tale, recounting about how Lance had suddenly yelled “HOLY FUCK” in the middle of the cafe and how the elderly occupying the cushioned booths had glared dangerously at him, how it looked whenever they watched their Soul Marks form and take shape.

    At this point, he stepped forward and allowed Shiro and Allura to examine his left thumb carefully, tracing their eyes over the flower petals and the stem curling over and through the spent zeros of his timer. When they had gotten their fill of looking at his Mark - Hunk had gently declined, as Lance had made him stare at it for nearly a half an hour after he had first gotten it - Keith had crouched down the meet the soft kitten that had bound its way back into the room, carefully skirting around the messy pile in the middle of the room so it could wrap around Keith’s ankles again.

    “I was convinced that I went a little crazy, after it happened, honestly.” He shrugged a shoulder as the fingers of his left hand scratched between the kitten’s ears and down its spine.

    The attention was solely on him, now, but he didn’t mind so much. Their faces were soft and open as they listened. Allura grinned softly down at Keith, humming and quietly responding where it seemed appropriate. Hunk’s eyes flickered to the door and he smiled the tiniest bit wider, but he carefully schooled his expression before Keith could notice the movement.

    The kitten butted its head into Keith’s palm and his eyes glowed a little looking down at it in all it’s flour-matted glory. He could see that the original color of its fur was a very light gray, possibly a light tan underneath all of the flour it had gotten itself into.

    He didn’t notice the soft footsteps behind him, or the breath that might have been translated as a snigger.

But oh  _ boy _ , did he notice the fingertips on his sides.

    He yipped, going to straighten and twist around when his sneakers slid on the powdered floor and he was falling to the ground. His hands sprung out, looking for leverage, only to find a bit of tee shirt to latch onto and drag down with him.

    He cursed, very  _ loudly _ , as he went down; he dragged Lance down with him into the pile of fine powder and popcorn. In a puff of flour, the kitchen was covered again. The flour launched up and sideways in all directions. Allura found herself covered, but Hunk and Shiro had been able to stay out of range for the most part.

Keith and Lance had not been so lucky.

    Keith had landed directly in the pile, his back was now covered, as well as his hair. Every strand was powdered and his head throbbed from hitting against the floor. Lance had gotten an easier blow, but was still covered from the aftershocks. His face was white and his eyes were wide, jaw dropped in shock. Most importantly, he was currently straddling Keith, leaning up on his elbows as their lips were but a breath apart.

    After a second, Lance came back to himself and sat up, leaving Keith to glare at him from the floor. The glare didn’t carry the bite he wanted, but Lance still laughed sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck with a murmured apology.

    Keith rolled his eyes. When he picked his head up off the floor, flour fluttered down from his hair back down to the floor. There was a tense silence for a moment. He could feel eyes on the back of his head, but he paid them no mind. He held a glare for all of four seconds before his façade was crumbling and he laughed through his words.

    “Nice going, dumbass!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so proud of the chapter title. Not even gonna lie.
> 
> I know I promised friendship bracelet making time but like. That can be for next chapter, right? Right.
> 
> I hope you liked this chapter! Please drop me a comment, telling me every inkling of every emotion you felt while reading this Awkard Masterpiece - or yknow. Something else.
> 
> Thank you to Mikiri for editing this chapter! <33
> 
> Just so you know, I'm also on tumblr @youngtiredandhungry. I ramble about this fic and many more of my works!! Check it out!


	13. Mulling It Over - Like A Fine Wine

         Honest to God: Lance hadn’t meant for Keith’s reaction to be _that_ exaggerated. He didn’t mean to end up on top of his soulmate, a fucking inch from his face (his lips, thought specifically. A breath away from kissing his soulmate for the first time). He could see every strain of Keith’s irises, every fleck of that dark, dark blue and how his pupils flexed and relaxed as Lance was suddenly blocking the light from his eyes. He could feel Keith’s breath against his chin and the warmth of his soulmate underneath him. He felt the pull he couldn’t describe, trying to lean him the rest of the way down until he could brush his lips over Keith’s and kiss him sweetly, like he had wanted to ever since they met, ever since he fucked up and ruined them. He wanted to kiss away any worries Keith had about them, any lingering thoughts about the awful people responding to him in negative ways, misgendering him…

He knew he couldn’t, but _God_ , he wanted to.

    He had blinked thrice, realized his situation and that Keith was _under him_ , unmoving and rigid. Lance pulled himself to sit up, smirking victoriously, covering up his little worries and thoughts of “Oh shit, what have I done? This was a terrible idea” as he gave a little laugh. “Gotcha!” he’d declared. Keith had glared and Lance had apologized, feeling small.

    Right now, he was in Allura’s shower, scrubbing through his short hair and muttering to himself about how fucking _stupid_ he was. Keith was in the guest shower with a pair of Lance’s spare clothes waiting for him.

    Lance finished washing out his hair and leaned his back against the cold tile, breathing in the too hot steam the billowed around him. It made him slightly lightheaded, but he didn’t care. Hey, maybe if he passed out, he’d hit his head against the tile and he wouldn’t have to deal with the awkwardness of the rest of the night. Because, it had to be awkward now, right? Keith came, probably expecting great things, but instead he got caked in flour and sent to shower in a stranger’s apartment.

    Great!

    He smacked his lips a few times and reached out for Allura’s towel. He dried himself off and dressed quickly before going to fold his dirty clothes and place them neatly on the toilet seat, making a mental note to remember to take them home tonight and get them laundered.

    He always kept a cache of clothes in the guest dresser in Allura’s house. He’d spent all too many nights here with only the clothes on his back before finally deciding to bring over a duffle bag to keep, just in case of emergencies or impromptu nights where he was too tired or drunk to drive home.

    Because of his cache of clothes ready to be used, and Keith getting caked in flour, Allura insisted that he go and take a quick shower because he’d be super uncomfortable all night otherwise. It took a few minutes, but eventually, he and Lance were both showering while the others were undoubtedly clucking like a bunch of fucking mother hens as they gossiped about the whole thing.

 _Ugh_.

    At least Pidge wasn’t here, he granted himself. If she was here, there’d be no hope of his ever living this down. Maybe, just _maybe_ there was a chance now… What was he saying, there was no hope for his poor soul. If Allura didn’t tell - which was doubtful - then Shiro would tell Matthew. Matthew would dish to Pidge and then _Pidge_ would never let him hear the end of the stupid matter.

    He went down the hallway back to the kitchen, his barefeet padding along on the cool, hard floor. He held the pinstriped towel around his shoulders as he went, silently debating what the best form of hush money was. He knew that a bottle of the really _good_ wine was on the table for Allura. Hunk wouldn’t tell anyway, his soulmate was just that amazing, mind you. He had no idea what would be good for Shiro.

    …Maybe offer to help him propose to Matt when he was ready?

    He doubt that that would work. Shiro would just lift his eyebrow in that unbearably _Shiro_ way and Lance would be left to backpedal. “Er… I didn’t mean that you would need _help_ , you know. I just…” And it would snowball from there until Lance would just stop talking, red faced and slightly embarrassed.

   Yikes, how about not doing that.

    He thumped into the kitchen to find Keith already in the room, perched on the wide of the counter, next to Allura with a glass of red wine on his hand. Allura was sitting atop the counter as well, sipping carefully at her own wide rimmed glass as she listened intently to whatever Keith was currently talking about.

    The kitchen was clean, now. All traces of flour were gone and everything was almost sparkling. Hunk was humming quietly, looking deeply through Allura’s fridge. Shiro was nowhere to be found.

    Allura caught his eyes and grinned “It’s about time,” she said. “Grab a glass, we were just discussing your deepest, darkest, most embarrassing secrets!”

    “Pff, yeah right.” He waved his hand and moved to take a glass from the rack. Poured himself a glass and cocked his hip against the counter, lifting a questioning eyebrow to his sister.

    Keith gave out a little breathy laugh and took a sip from his glass, almost giggling into his drink. Lance’s face fell.

    “Wait, shit, really?” he cried. He nearly dropped his glass as he straightened, eyes wide with an unmistakable heat rushing to his face and creeping down the back of his neck. “Allura!” He nearly winced at how high his voice went.

    Allura was laughing now, curling an arm around her middle and holding her wineglass up a bit so that it wouldn’t slosh out and dirty her white camisole. Keith held his wrist against his mouth in an effort to stifle his laugh, but he wasn’t doing very well - _traitor_! Weren’t soulmates supposed to stick together through thick, thin and take their sides over their sibling’s?

    Oh, how dare he.

    Lance glowered, taking a larger than necessary drink.

    Hunk resurfaced from the fridge, holding a package of Canadian bacon in his hands, only to toss it on the counter next to a sealed can. “Don’t worry,” he said, waving his hand in the air, “Keith was actually telling us about the commissions he does sometimes.”

    “Commissions?” Lance echoed incredulously, eyebrows furrowing.

    Keith’s laughter died quickly. He took a deep breath in and nodded. “Yeah,” he shrugged, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb over the painted peacock feather on the body of his glass. “It helps with the rent.”

    “I’d like to see your work!” Allura said, grinning. “It sounds lovely.”

    Keith shrugged at that. “Next time, I guess.”

    Lance smiled at him softly, watching how he sipped from his glass, how he sat uncertainty on the lip of the counter (Lance had a sneaking suspicion that it was Allura that had coaxed him up there; she had always loved sitting on the counter tops, weirdly) with the long, soft baby blue shirt dropping loosely down to his lower thighs. He’d recycled his pants, Lance noted, instead of any of Lance’s jeans and shorts stashed in the guest room, he was wearing the black jeans from earlier.

    Keith’s hair was still wet, dripping slowly down to his shoulders. His hair was a mess, but he had clearly been running his fingers through it because it was slicked back and away from his eyes.

    There was a little noise as Hunk cleared his throat. Lance blinked and looked over to him, eyes curious. Hunk was looking at him, an opened can of pineapple in his hands as he grinned mischievously over at his soulmate.

    Lance cocked his eyebrow in question and Hunk simply smirked and mouthed to him: “You’re checking him out.”

    Once again, Lance nearly dropped his glass to the tiled flooring. His eyes blew wide and he flushed as he floundered. “You’re ridiculous,” he mouthed back. He cast a glance to see make sure that Allura and Keith weren’t looking in their direction. Instead, Allura was offering Keith a refill on his glass. Lance counted himself safe enough to look back to Hunk, who was looking at him as if he had just told the most unbelieveable lie of the century. Well… maybe he had?

     _Sure_ , he liked Keith a little bit. It wasn’t like it showed much, right? Hunk is just _super_ duper in tune to him because they’re soulmates. That’s gotta be it, he reasoned.

    “You like him!” Hunk mouthed before turning back to his rolled out pizza dough, where he would soon begin to assemble the pie.

    Lance figures that if he rolls his eyes hard enough that maybe Hunk will feel it through the air. Hunk didn’t turn around, but he had faith that the universe would let Hunk know of his irritation.

    “Where did Shiro go?” Lance asked, trying to get in on the conversation Allura and Keith were now apparently trying to exclude him from. Don’t get him wrong, he’s _really fucking happy_ they’re getting along (not that he had doubts that they would), he just wanted them to get along and be able to have a conversation he could be included in.

    “Coran needed help bringing some stuff up,” Allura answered. “As soon as they get up here, we’re gonna make popcorn _right_.” She waited a moment before adding “For after dinner, of course.”

    “And maybe not blow up the kitchen again?” Hunk asked, tossing a grin over his shoulder.

    “Who got flour everywhere?” Allura snapped back, lifting an eyebrow.

    Hunk raised his hands in surrender, shrugging his shoulders with a little laugh. “Fair enough, fair enough.” He turned back to his work station for a second before looking back to Lance. “You want the rest of this pineapple? I have too much.”

    Lance’s eyes lit up. “God, that’s even a question? Of course!”

         Keith clicked his tongue and swirled his wine carelessly.

This is weird.

    This is like _stupid_ weird. Weirder than being forced by his mom to go out with Kevin and his girlfriend to be a “chaperone” at fifteen. Weirder than those lunch dates with his dad after his parents divorced. Weirder than his dad’s girlfriend trying to bond with him over latest LA fashions and offers to get mani-pedis.

You get the picture.

    He’s sitting on the counter of Allura, famous actress and his _soulmate’s sister_ , drinking _wine_ as he talks about his art. He sits, drinking wine as his soulmate is play flirting with his own platonic soulmate over canned pineapple. He sits in his soulmate’s shirt after he showered in Allura’s apartment. This is just… crazy. Did he spike a fever again?

    Instead of voicing his thoughts, he sips at his wine. He’s beginning to feel the tension bleed from his shoulders, however slowly and cautiously. Maybe it’s the wine, he supposed. It was good, he granted. Full, sweet and perfect as far as he was concerned right now. The glass was pretty, painted in bright blues and greens to depict a peacock feather curving around the body of the glass.

    He covertly presses the back of his hand to his forehead to check for any sickness. The temperature was normal, he noted with a little inward sigh.

    His eyes flick around the kitchen; it’s all impressive marble counter tops and stainless steel appliances. Very modern and well used. He wondered if Allura liked to cook as much as Hunk seemed to. There was a funny copper wire glass rack that held several more wine glasses, all painted with varying designs. His and Allura’s were the feathered ones. Lance’s glass was abandoned on the counter as he ate pineapple (with his fingers like a goddamn animal) held a pretty pink bowtie and cursive letters underneath it that read _Maid of Honor_ that had Keith guessing that it was a bachelorette party favor. Three bottles of hard liquor, plus another two wine bottles littered the cabinet by the stove, ready to be cracked open and downed.

    The fridge next to Hunk and Lance was littered in papers hung up by stud magnets, most of them looked like schedules from where Keith sat, but he couldn’t be sure. There were other pictures, ones drawn in mixes of crayons and colored pencils. Clumsily drawn figures with eyes too big for their heads and arms too long to be realistic. It made him smile at the drawings that were presumably drawn by Lance and Allura’s little sister Minnie.

    “You hang Lance’s drawings on the refrigerator?” he asked with a smirk, refusing to let the little opportunity pass him by.

    Allura caught his line of sight, to the numerous drawing pinned to the metal and laughed, her nose crinkling as she did so. Lance’s ears perked up and he whipped his head around to face Keith with his fingers still pinching a bit of pineapple halfway to his mouth. He glanced to the refrigerator and his face melted into that of utter betrayal. His fingers released the pineapple so that it fell back into the can with a wet _plop_.

    He hit his hand over his heart dramatically and gasped fully in his chest. “ _Keith!_ ” he breathed. “How dare you insult my little sister’s drawing skills! She is lovely and talented. A hotshot mullet bearing person of upper class would never understand a young, aspiring artist’s vision!”

    Keith doubled over laughing after relocating his wineglass as far away as possible as to avoid a drastic spill.

    The weirdness blended away as the wine swirled in his body, leaving Keith warm and fuzzy feeling. His being was left loose and comfortable as he rolled with the events in the house. Within minutes, Shiro returned with Coran. He was a tall man, who held his shoulders back straight and his head high - he reminded Keith of some kind of official or soldier. He had two small, blue triangles under the otter corners of his eyes. They matched the pink ones visible under Allura's eyes when she wasn't wearing makeup, marking them both as platonic soulmates.

     Unlike Allura, the man still retained his accent, also unlike Allura who was the very spitting image of her Altea character Ellora, Coran was much more lively and energetic than his own character. He was younger than depicted in the show, maybe a little older than Shiro and Allura. He was also barefaced, which was a little weird for Keith to see outside of the thick red moustache he always had on Altea.

    Again, unlike Allura, the man could _actually_ make popcorn. It was expertly popped and seasoned as he told Keith about some rabbit-hole topic he had gotten down concerning something about Coran’s mother’s Uncle and his first popcorn making experience. Apparently, it involved upset neighbors, a broken light fixture and a pan lid stuck in his parent’s ceiling.

    Oddly, Keith felt okay now, comfortable in the atmosphere, among people he would _almost_ consider friends (he still had to decide where their relationships stood) as they snacked on popcorn until Hunk’s pizzas exited the oven. Already, the smell was fantastic - better than any pizza Keith had eaten recently. He’d only put pineapple on one pizza, (which was okay with Keith who, while he didn’t mind it, believed that it got old very quickly) due to Shiro’s adamant insistence that “Pineapples belong in smoothies. _Never_ in pizzas.”

    Hunk laughed, the sounds filling the room and aided the warm air. He said that he would only put it on one of the pizzas, to Lance’s horror. “You’ve seen Wall-E!” he exclaimed. “Pizza and smoothies are one and the same, therefore can share each other’s ingredients.”

    “Dude, that doesn’t even count. That was a pizza smoothie. No harmony. Just nasty, thick, pizza flavored liquid for the humans to drink,” Hunk put in, eyebrow raised a little as he put on a pair of oven mitts.

    Lance gave him a wide eyed, kicked puppy look from where he now sat next to Keith on the counter. He had replaced Allura as she had gone to watch carefully how Coran worked at the stove. He leaned into his soulmate’s shoulder and sniffled. “Keith,” he said, lip puckered out, “he wounds me.” Keith simply breathed a laugh and knocked his ear against the top of Lance’s head before holding his head up again. He didn’t bother to knock Lance off his shoulder, and his soulmate didn’t move, so they stayed like that for a minute, leaning on each other and enjoying the room and everyone’s activities as they bustled around, playing around with each other as they ate popcorn and visited.

    Shiro cleared away the counter just before Hunk bent to pull the pizzas out of the oven. They were all melted cheese and mouthwatering aromas, drawing Keith’s eyes instantly. He hummed quietly as he watched Hunk let Shiro slice the pie up and how Allura seemed to be drawn into a conversation with Coran. The steady breathing beside him was relaxing. Keith found himself leaning his head atop Lance’s, letting himself breathe in tune with Lance against him, slow, steady, rhythmic, okay.

    His glass was cradled in his cupped hands settled between his thighs, he had to think about accidentally dropping it to snap back to full consciousness. His eyelids had begun to drop sleepily. He’d let them, relaxed as he was slumped on this stupid counter top in his soulmate’s sister’s house, next to said soulmate, who single handedly stole every worry he had about this evening and put his mind at ease enough to nearly drop off to sleep.

    Or maybe it was just the wine, he tried to convince himself, trying to dismiss Lance’s effect on him. The assumption that Lance’s presence next to him had him feeling warm and relaxed and safe. Of course, he knew that’s what happened with soulmates. That’s how his grandmother talked about his grandfather. That’s how everyone talked about their fucking soulmate. The only exceptions were his parents, who don’t talk about each other at all. He recognized the bubbly feeling in his chest, the pull that threaded between his ribs and tried to yank him along until he was wound in Lance’s arms. The pull that he was so desperately trying to protect himself from.

    He was stumbling along the rocky path, pulled by the invisible cord buried in his chest as he tried to cut it off. Trying to resist the pull was as useless as trying to snap a steel cord with only your fingers acting as scissors for tools. That’s what made it terrifying.

    He knew if he followed the cord, he’d end up at a hole. He was expected to jump into the hole, the universal expectation that soulmates were life partners, and he was supposed to do it without question. He wasn’t supposed to second guess the universe because who would be crazy enough to do that? The universe knows what it’s doing, right? It knows who would be good for you and who _you_ would be good for.

That’s what he’s told, anyway.

    Don’t question, jump into the dark hole without a bottom, be with your soulmate, _the universe chose them for you, what could go wrong_?

Plenty. Fucking plenty could go wrong.

    Unlike Pre-Timer-Ending-Finding-Your-Soulmate dating, there’s no graceful way out of After-Timer dating. There’s no more “Are you guys still together?” There’s only “How’s your soulmate?” and “Are you two thinking of having kids?” In his parent’s case, it was never “You two are having trouble?” No, it was never sympathetic. It was incredulous. “You two are having trouble!? How, you’re soulmates!”

    If ever you and your soulmate didn’t work out, there was always the crippling embarrassment that you and your ideal life partner couldn’t work, so that makes you undesirable to the entire population of the earth. Or maybe that’s just what it feels like when you have to tell your peers that “My soulmate and I aren’t really together right now” or something like “We’re separated right now.” Heaven forbid that you imply that you’re never getting back together. It’s like a branding shame that you never have the chance to outgrow.

    So he didn’t follow the cord. He strained against it. He put all of his weight _behind him_ so it would slow the process. He kicked his feet and circled the hole, never ever jumping in. Never falling. If he fell, giving himself into the possibility of _love_ and all that, he’d never be able to climb back up and out. The sides of the hole would slick and he’s be stuck, falling without ever catching a break.

    He knows that maybe, if he sat on the edge of the hole and let his feet dangle in its depths, that just _maybe_ a good love will grow. Just like their Soul Marks, a beautiful flower with imperfect petals, _something_ could grow between them. Like a flower, if nurtured correctly, something beautiful could blossom. Something that symbolized hope in dark times, something that took your breath away when you looked at it.

Something amazing.

    But even as something amazing could grow, the opposite could happen too . It could wither and die, Keith reminded himself. The soft lavender could turn black and droop on its stem until it touched the earth, never to pick its head back up again. The happiness he felt during the fact could never rival the devastation afterwards, could it?

    He didn’t believe that it could. And because of that belief, he dragged his heels and began to rub his fingers at the cord. It’d break eventually, he told himself. Someday, it’d be so worn that it would snap and then he would be free to run in the opposite direction, _free._

    The head on his shoulder shifted and a soft breath hit his chin. It had Keith blinking rapidly and tilting his head so he could look down at Lance.

    “What’cha thinkin’ about?” he asked. His voice was soft, a large contrast to nearly each word he’d said so far.

    Keith merely shook his head, sipping at his drink to mask the downturn of his lips. “Nothing,” he assured him after he swallowed. Lance wasn’t given the oppurtunity to worry about it as Hunk stepped forward to hand them their plates.

    The next few minutes were spent relocating everyone to the living room and onto the horseshoe couch. It was squishy and comfortable. He sat in the middle, where Lance had guided him and put his glass (now filled with water. He felt that while the wine was delicious, it was time to switch to something with a smaller alcohol percentage) onto the little table. A table that Lance propped his feet up on like a fucking heathen. Lance slouched in his seat, resting his plate on his stomach as he ate his food.

    Keith’s nose crinkled of its own violation as he looked at his soulmate and leaned back into the couch with his plate in-hand.

    “Do you know what movie _I_ want to watch?” Allura asked, reaching out with the remote as she navigated to the Netflix search bar.

    “Hit 2004 classic from director Mark Waters: Mean Girls?” Lance wandered, cheek full of food. _Gross._

    Allura shook her head and went around the little search box and input her query. It turned out to be a foreign film that he’d never seen before. After collective consent from all there, Allura turned the movie on. It featured a blind boy and his best friend in the opening shots. Keith had to divide his attention between the fast moving subtitles and what was happening in each scene. Every once in awhile, light would catch from the fixture ahead and glint in the gaudy decorations that hung above the tv and the ones that littered the coffee table. Each time he looked at them, he had to repress a little laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.

    Nevertheless, he let himself kick back and enjoy the movie and the company. He smiled at Allura’s comments throughout. They were small and mostly whispered to Coran, but audible nonetheless. She gushed about how cute lead and the transfer student were.

    There was a short scene in a communal shower that had Shiro reaching over to cover Lance’s eyes. “Preserving innocence,” he advised to Keith as he moved his hand to accommodate Lance’s wiggling and efforts to see the screen.

    Near the end of the movie, the fluffball of a cat came jingling into the room with a soft meow. Allura had wiped her down with a few wipes to clean her, at least a little until a proper bath could be arranged. It hopped over Hunk’s lap and sniffed around Keith before curling down into his side, softly purring as Keith scratched behind its ears.

    This was good, Keith realized. He banished any underlying thoughts about soulmates from his brain. He made himself focus on what was happening and the people he was surrounded by. He smiled as he put himself back in the moment, back in Allura’s living room. He enjoyed their company. He enjoyed the cake Shiro handed out halfway through the movie. He enjoyed the night without another care and didn’t let any self-doubt or worry until the taxi ride back to his apartment that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter feels like it took forever to write. I think I blame it on the length. It's the longest chapter so far, and honestly... maybe my favorite. Even though it got down into rabbit trails and KLangst™. It was full of in depth Keith perspective and Symbolism™  
> (Also, I've learned that when I promise that something's going to be in an update that it never gets in. Sure, it's gonna get there eventually, but it's never in the chapter I say it's going to be in. That being said, never trust me anymore when I promise things. I don't know what I'm talking about ;] )
> 
> Please drop me a comment! I love them all so much!  
> I'm on tumblr @youngtiredandhungry  
> And thank you to Mikiri, who not only edited this chapter, but also shared his thoughts. :D Thanks!!


	14. Relationship: Solidified (Mixed)

         Keith woke up the next morning with a thudding headache in the bottom part of his skull and in a shirt that was decidedly not his. In his drunken state, he was able to stumble into his bedroom and he had the sense to take off his binder before he slept. He didn’t know why he put Lane’s shirt back on, though. It did smell pleasant, filling his nose with some odd fragrance that was left to cling to the soft fabric after a wash.

    The wide collar was askew when he sat up, still groggy and the slightest bit grumpy with a morning breath of the ages.

    Wandering through his apartment was a headache of his own, the way the blackout curtains were still open to let the sun shine into the room as it very well pleased was painful. With little grumbled words he didn’t even register himself speaking, he yanked them over the glass door and window panes so that he was shrouded in a dark space. It was a comforting dark, a quiet that eased his headache. He was free to curl up on the couch and sleep the rest of his hangover away with only the fleeting thought that he had forgotten his shirt at Allura’s apartment.

         The next ten days were little more than work and Pidge’s constant ragging concerning everyone’s decision to meet Keith and leave her out of it.

    Surprisingly, he wasn’t the only one occupied with work. Apparently, the shooting of Altea season 4 had begun. According to Lance in one of their phone calls (they were becoming increasingly regular; Lance would either call him in the morning at an ungodly hour around eight o’clock in the morning, or around nine at night. They would talk comfortably about their days or maybe nothing at all. Keith found it a little alarming how calming Lance’s voice had becoming to him) that they were in a studio downtown, shooting green screen scenes at the moment. They would be going across state lines later that year for scenes concerning a planetside with scenery similar to the Nevada desert. Keith had received several notifications throughout work that he had to ignore, only to find later that Pidge and Lance were trying their damndest to keep him updated on _everything_ that was happening. In between scenes, make-up, cast shenanigans, you name it, Keith was now aware of it after his work shift. On his way home, he was fully entertained by several little video clips and photos throughout the day.

    While they were entertaining, they were also infuriating. Everyone was careful in ensuring that there was so spoilers leaked. Not proper spoilers, anyway. There was a picture of one of Lance’s costumes. It was sleek and gray and something Keith direly wanted to see his soulmate in. However it raised _numerous_ questions. That certain set of clothing was something very _special_ in Altea. Something that is only worn for certain ceremonies. Particularly weddings and formal promotions. It had Keith buzzing to know what its purpose was, but _no one would tell him_. They played off his questions with cute smiling emojis and multi-colored hearts. Assholes.

    There was another thing, a captioned video that was possibly Keith’s favorite out of everything. A little clip of Shiro and Matthew in character and impeccable costume similar to Lance’s. It was a messy video, taken from offset and far enough away so the words couldn’t be heard. They were standing barely a foot apart, Matthew with a sort of longing on his face. It was subdued, but still obviously there. Keith was doubting that it was just characterization, though the subtext of Matt and Shiro’s characters, Levi and Ezra’s affection to each other was _incredibly_ obvious.

    Shiro looked down at Matt, brow furrowed and mouth downturned. Keith got a very specific vibe from them, and it wasn’t just from a very serious conversation between fellow advisors to the Queen. No, it was one that so many thought screamed _they are in love and probably just got done fucking in some nondescript broom closet_.

    The caption made it all worse, because Lance was acknowledging it, too. It read: _when director asks u not to act like u have chemistry bt u cant help it bc u love each other v much and are literal soulmates_. Keith laughed into his takeaway coffee right before he walked into his apartment.

    His home was dark and cool and suspiciously silent when he dropped his keys in the bowl. A little note on neon green index card told of Julie’s plans for a date. Since her after-semester clubbing, his roommate had been quite taken with a young man. He was a friend of a friend Keith had met briefly once as he scurried out of their apartment last week. It was awkward, especially with his shirt done up wrong and the inane grin on Julie’s face when she came out of her room moments later. He made Julie happy, though, and that’s all that mattered.

   He put his backpack away and continued sipping on his coffee. He was getting geared up to pull out a sketchbook, fingerpads itching for the feel of charcoal on them when his phone rang. He put his coffee on his bedroom desk and pulled out his phone. He slid his thumb across the phone when Lance’s name came up and put it to his ear, only to instantly have to jerk it away again.

    “Wanna do something fun?” Lance asked the second his soulmate picked up.

* * *

 

    “Call him,” Allura goaded, poking his ribcage lightly.

    Lance frowned, looking at his reflection in the powerless TV as he was upside-down over the back of Allura’s couch his his head hanging off the edge of the cushion. “He probably just got off shift,” he replied. “He’ll be tired.”

    “Lance Alexander Vasquez,” she groaned, flipping so that she was fully lying on the couch cushions. “Call him or I will.”

    “You’re not serious,” he argued, a little curl to his lips. “You didn’t even use my full name~” Allura rolled her eyes and reached over, grasping for his phone. Lance tugged it away half-heartedly and rested it on his chest. “That’s mine.”

    “Call him or I’ll invite him over to watch _Gina_.”

    Lance whipped his head over to her, eyes wide and gaze horrified. “You wouldn’t dare.” _Gina_ was one of Lance’s first roles. It was a low budget movie centered around a young woman and her search to find herself. A cliche plot, horrible scripting and early acting from nearly all of the cast members resulted in a  cringe-worthy movie. The type of cringe and tease material that Lance would quite possibly sell his soul to keep anyone from ever seeing the movie again. He’d kept Pidge and Shiro from seeing it, but the constant subtle teasing from Allura and Hunk was nearly unbearable. They’d quote lines to him and occasionally, on the most awful of occasions, make _the face_ at him. The face, the flirtatious one the young girl playing Gina could never get right haunted Lance’s dreams constantly.

    Allura tilted her head and gave him a smirk that had him instantly picking up his phone and putting in Keith’s number. He put it to speakerphone and waited for it to ring, glaring daggers at his sister’s face all the while.

    It didn’t take long for Keith to pick up - it never did, usually. As soon as it did, his mouth went off reflexively.

    “Wanna do something fun?”

    Lance puffed out his cheeks as soon as the words popped out of his mouth, resisting the urge to smack his forehead. The volume of the question was high, as well as the pitch in his voice. It kind of reminded him of when he’d first tried to ask out James Claborn in eleventh grade; nervous as shit and shaking all over as he waited for the boy’s answer. Haha, why did this feel so similar? He was just trying to hang out with Keith, not date him.

    Sitting upside down on Allura’s couch as he blinked at his reflection in the blank flat screen, avoiding the burning gaze from his sister beside him had Lance fidgety. He could never keep his energy bottled. He was an energetic person. He briefly did gymnastics in middle school, played soccer in high school. He runs now, not only because he’s nearly required to keep himself in shape, but because he loves it and nearly goes stir crazy if he’s not able to. When he gets into a situation where he’s required to keep still or keep his cool, he can’t help but fidget, pluck his fingers into the material of his shirt, bob his foot or wind his fingertips in his hair. He chanced a glance to Allura and she had her eyebrow cocked, sending him a questioning gaze.

    They listened to Keith breathe on the opposite line for a good fifteen seconds before Lance heard a little hum in the back of Keith’s throat. “Uh… What kind of fun?” he asked, his voice reserved like he was questioning why Lance was calling.

    Okay… even Lance was questioning why he was calling. A pity visit to his sister’s house after a lonely week and a half of not seeing his soulmate face to face wasn’t supposed to actually result in him _calling_ the cause of his loneliness. He was embarrassingly lonely just because he hasn’t been able to see Keith. Lonely despite now having work to juggle along his crazy personal life and multiple interviews scheduled before the weekend. Itching to see Keith and have the man next to him, near him. He wished he had the warmth pressed against him again, like when they were watching that movie the last time they saw each other.

    “Um,” Lance hummed, furrowing his eyebrows, casting around for something fun to do that wouldn’t sound incredibly lame. He looked to Allura, but she had nothing to offer, shrugging him off with a lifting of her shoulder and a flick of her wrist. “ _You’re so much help,_ ” he mouthed to her. “I dunno,” he finally admitted with a defeated sigh. He wasn’t one to give up and admit that he didn’t have a clue, but then again, he wasn’t going to go out and do something stupid with Keith just for the sake of being with him.

    God, he wanted to. He really, _really_ did. He wanted to take him out and just walk through the busy streets at night time just to see how the street lamps looked when they illuminated Keith’s profile. He wanted to take him to an aquarium and watch to see if Keith got absorbed in the fish as much as he knew he himself would be. He wanted to just cuddle with him on a couch and run his fingers through his soft looking hair-

     _But_ that’d be an inconvenience to Keith, so he would admit that he didn’t know, own up to his under preparation and hope for the best. At the very least, he was getting to listen to Keith’s voice. _This_ he would never admit to, but his soulmate’s voice was more comforting than anything else he could thinking of - that’s including his mom and dad’s hugs and his mom’s words of wisdom. There’s just something incredibly _there_ in that voice that has Lance’s stomach in knots and chest tingling whenever he hears it.

    Keith breathed a laugh, short, sharps but not at all annoyed. The puff of air sent a little crackle through the line. “There’s always skydiving for the indecisive thrill junkie.”

    “Pff, I’m not a thrill junkie!” Lance scoffed, shifting his position so that his legs fell off the back of the couch and he tilted so he could sit up straight. “But even if I was, I wouldn’t _skydive_.”

    “What would you do then?” Keith challenged. Lance walked up the little steps leading up from the Pit of Entertainment (name courtesy of Pidge) and around to the kitchen, mind on some kind of drink. Allura followed behind him, listening intently to the conversation that had begun to flowing smoothly.

    “Go surf a wave and fight a shark,” Lance shot back, shrugging one shoulder. He went for the fridge, grabbing out two chilled water bottles and tossing one to Allura while the phone was temporarily tucked between his cheek and shoulder.

    “That’s impossible. For one: it’s highly unlikely to encounter a shark and two: you would not survive a shark attack.” Allura piped up, causing Keith to make a surprised sound.

    “Who’s that?” he asked.

    “Allura,” Lance advised. “Whom is no longer my sister.” She laughed and Keith scoffed lightly. “I could totally fight a shark,” he muttered, setting his phone onto the counter so he could open his bottle and take a drink.

    “You couldn’t,” Allura said lightly, a bit of song in her voice as she cracked her bottle open, too.

    “I doubt he could stay on a board, let alone fight a shark as he did,” Keith put in. Lance frowned, crossing his arms in a sulk. It only remained for a second though, and then he was talking again.

    “Actually, it’s easy. You just go _into_ the loopy wave and then grab the shark as it goes by. Everyone knows that, Keith, duh.”

    “Loopy wave?” Keith questioned. He laughed and Lance made a drastic face. It felt serious to him but the look Allura gave him told Lance that he was just, in fact, swooning. God, what’s new? “Oh my God. Have you ever even surfed before?”

    Lance could have rolled his eyes.

    “No,” he stated. No one in their family save Allura could. Lance had wanted to, sure. He just never had the time nor the opportunity. “Have _you?_ ” he asked, certain the answer was no.

    “I mean, not in a long time, but yeah, I have.”

Da _mn it_.

    An exaggerated frown had Allura giggling. “Amazing!” she exclaimed. “Ah, we should go together some day!”

    Keith mused. “Like I said, I haven’t done it in forever, so I’m probably not so good anymore, but yeah, that’d be cool.”

    “So, something fun,” Lance chimed in again. “There’s movies and like… crap. Allura, what do I do for fun?”

    “Sit at home and be lazy?” Allura guessed lightly, all straight posture and perfect seriousness. Lance shot her a withering gaze and exhale harshly through his nose, melting to lean against the counter in a sulk.

    “I’m a simple man-”

    “Well that’s right,” Keith cut in cheerfully with a tease.

    “-with simple pleasures. Keith!” His jaw dropped and he stared hard at his phone, as is the Apple product would materialize Keith right out of the home button. That’d be a neat function, he needs to send an email for Apple...

    “I call it as I see it, Lance,” Keith hummed and Lance frowned, held back a groan. He couldn’t even be mad, not with the smile in Keith’s voice and the mental image of him moving through the apartment he barely remembered, possibly fiddling around or sketching as he talked.

    Allura smiled, as though a light bulb clicked on in her mind. “I’ve got it! She declared. “Our family is coming over next week and I have purchased a few packages of beads and bracelet making supplies. You could come over and help us figure out what to do with them!”

    “You guys… don’t know how to make beaded jewelry?” Keith questioned, a frown in his voice.

    “I haven’t _tried to_ since I was an eight year old child.” Allura looked to her right, just over the bar where the dining area sat. There was a white plastic bag on top of the long table where Lance guessed the plastic beads sat innocently, taunting his older sister where they sat. “Forgive me if I don’t remember the art of making child’s jewelry.”

    “You thread beads onto the string and then tie it, how hard is that?” Lance questioned. His eyebrows furrowed and was now doubting Allura’s suggestion himself. Allura glowered and took a sip from her bottle.

    “It isn’t,” she huffed. She crossed the kitchen and took Lance’s phone so she could muffle the receiver into the shoulder of her shirt. “I thought you wanted to see Keith?” she asked him, a breath of a whisper so Keith wouldn’t be able to hear.

    Lance opened his mouth, but clicked it shut again. Seeing Keith for the sake of seeing him - even if they were sitting around making child’s bracelets out of multicolored horse beads and talking while Allura subtly teases him on everything from the sidelines. Lance exhaled dramatically and nodded. “ _Fiiine_ ,” he muttered.

    Allura grinned and pulled the phone back up between them.

    “I’ve got six packs of colorful beads just waiting to be tested. I’m going to need your help to get some experience in this so I don’t look like a novice when our little sister gets here. Help? Please?”

    Allura looked most hopeful, sparkling eyes and the works.

    “Yeah, okay.” Keith’s voice held an odd little twang but Lance wasn’t able to detect just what it was over the phone line. “Lemme get ready.”

         Three quarters of an hour later, Lance was pulling himself up from in the middle of a pile of plastic beads and elastic string to go and open the door for Keith. He flung open the door with a grin on his face and a twinkle in his eyes as he caught sight of Keith on the other side, all wind messed hair and thin tees covered by his vibrant red jacket on. Keith smiled at him and there it was. The dip wherein the heart lurches and it feels like the breath was knocked out of him.

    This is bad; he has _got_ it bad.

    “Allura’s up to her elbows in craft supplies.” Lance laughed, his smile widening to cover up the concerning leap in his chest. “C’mon.”

    He led Keith into the Pit and let the younger man shrug off his backpack and set it near the stairs before dragging him the rest of the way to where Allura was sat with her legs folded under her in front of the coffee table, her eyes narrowed at an opened laptop that displayed a video tutorial about how to properly tie an elastic knot. Because one couldn’t tie it and be done. Of course.

    Allura glanced up and smiled. She attempted to wave, but the fingers of both hands were occupied with tiny little elastics. “Hello,” she said around a turquoise bead held between her teeth.

    “Hey,” Keith smiled, plopping down across from her.

    Allura spat the bead into the palm of her hand and tossed it aside until she could put it to further use. “You forgot your shirt here last time.” Lance blinked, looking over and between them. That’s right; and Keith must still have his shirt at his apartment. The back of Lance’s neck warmed just the tiniest bit and he found himself shuffling on his feet behind Keith.

    Keith, who was looking at everything laid out on the table. “Yeah, I know.” He shook his head at himself. “I can’t believe I forgot it,” he muttered, poking through the plastic sacks sitting on the table.

    Allura laughed. “I don’t blame you,” she said. “We were all a little out of it that night.” She smiled. “I laundered them. I think they’re on Lance’s dresser.”

    “I’ll grab it,” Lance offered. He twisted on his heel and hopped up the little steps out so he could head down the hall. He snatched at the tee sitting right where Allura said it would be. He padded back into the living room and tossed Keith his shirt. “Thank you,” Keith said to him before stuffing the shirt in his backpack. “So,” Keith started, shifting to his knees by the coffee table. “What do we have?”

    “We have a wide variety of pony beads and elastic strings. We’ve also got thread for friendship bracelets if we get _really_ ambitious,” Lance advised him, clearing his throat before sitting down next to him. “Also enough iced tea to kill an elephant, if you want any.” He added in a little whisper, “Sometimes Allura gets a little excited when making drinks and makes too much for the amount of people she’s trying to serve.”

    Keith nodded thoughtfully and seemed soaking in the info as he picked up a cardboard rectangle that held the thread. “I’m good for now, but thanks,” he told Lance as he moved around, picking up the scissors so he could snip several strands varying in colors. “I haven’t done this since middle school,” he confessed. Lance watched as he knotted them all together at the end, looking at the string like he was forming a battle plan.

    “I haven’t either,” Lance commented. “Jewelry wasn’t really my thing when I was a kid.” Keith looked to him, brow lifted and his fingers pausing with the thread.

    “Really? You seem like the one to parade around with clipped earrings when he was a toddler.”

    Lance grabbed at a container of beads and sat back against the foot of the couch, nodding, a flush coming to his cheeks as he hunkered down into himself. He had. He owned a pair of pretty blue ones when he was little and liked to wear them to school when he was still in elementary. Plus, he had a distinct memory of Allura and Nicole putting a pair of those on him when he was around four, along with a make over involving a very heavy coat of blush and lipstick that did _not_ follow his lip line. At all.

Not that Keith needed to know any of that.

    Allura looked up from her computer, her face illuminated in the light. There was a glint in her eyes that did not come from the screen. Lance widened his eyes, a silent, blaring signal to _not_ tell what Lance must have been thinking at that moment. It was like she had selective hearing sometimes, only hearing or commenting on what would be embarrassing for Lance or others.

    He was going to disown her earlier? Yeah, he thinks he should probably follow through with that.

    “Well _actually_ , Keith,” Allura began, a grin creeping up her mouth. Lance was quick, fumbling through the bead container resting on his knee and the elastic threading around him so he could feel behind him for a throw pillow he knew would rest there. He clutched at it, spilling beads as Allura continued her bit. “Lance had a beautiful p-” She didn’t get to finish as the pillow went careening to her face.

    It glanced off of her laptop, shutting it halfway just before smacking Allura square in the face with it. She made a sound akin to a squawk as she was sent back to the floor out of shock. She came back up a second later, pillow in hand. There was a dangerous look, a fire in her eyes that had Lance shifting a little closer to Keith. Definitely not for protection. Nu-huh. Lance could handle himself if Allura decided to start a throw pillow war, couldn’t he? Yeah, totally.

    He wasn’t given the opportunity to see if he was correct in his assumption because instead of chucking the pillow back at him, Allura was looking down at the zig-zagged patterned fabric, her mouth slack. She looked back to him, the light in her eyes brightened, now. Lance looked at her and then realized his mistake. Her lipstick was smeared. Spreading downwards to her chin like flour on a tile floor. And on the pillow was the residue. The deep maroon staining at the light fabric of the pillow.

    Keith muttered something Lance couldn’t understand, but he understood the meaning. Keith, as he himself was, was fearing for Lance’s life.

    Allura made an enraged noise and rose from her seat on the floor, pillow still in hand. “If I can’t get this stain out, Lance, you’re paying for this.” He wasn’t sure in which way she meant _pay for_ , but he flinched just as hard as she passed him by, whacking him on the head as she went.

    “Ow,” he grumbled darkly, rubbing at the spot where she had hit him a little harder than strictly necessary.

    “You deserved that,” Keith told him. He nodded like he believed it wholeheartedly. _Traitor_! Keith went back to knotting and twisting at the thread, putting the end between his teeth so it could be taut as he worked. “I’da killed ya,” he said around the strings.

    Lance’s murmured darkly as he shrunk down, slouching against the foot of the couch, He plucked a bead up from the ground and slid it onto the green cord and exhaled roughly. They worked in silence for a few minutes.

    “Where’s the cat?” Keith asked. “The fluffball.”

    Lance picked his head up, eyebrows drawn together in a furrow. “Uh… Rover? He’s actually Pidge’s cat.” Keith gave a little _Oooh_ and Lance nodded. “Yeah. After she came back from France she picked him up again.”

    “Gotcha.”

    Lance didn’t know what to say to that other than a lame “Yeah, so…” He thought it best to keep his mouth shut to avoid that. He waited a moment.

Lance never was good at keeping his mouth shut.

    “How was work?” Lance asked, looking to the man beside him. Keith glanced over, the string still haphazardly clenched between his teeth.

    He shrugged a shoulder. “Okay.” He did a knot and paused. “My manager proposed to his girlfriend today. She comes in every other Wednesday after Dave gets off sift because they have like a date night or something. Anyway, he put the ring around the straw and asked her at the front counter. She cried.” He laughed for a second. Reflexively, his hand jerked and he pulled the string out from his mouth to fall limp from his fingers. “It was cute,” he said just as he let go with one hand so he could snatch at the knotted end.

    “Are they soulmates?” Lance asked absentmindedly, not even taking thought as he put another few beads on the string. He was going traditional, it seemed, with rainbows and pretty special beads in between each color. It was pretty gay and Lance was beginning to be satisfied with it.

    “Yes. They are.” The terse, sharp words had Lance looking up from his work, eyes wide and cautious. His mind was kicked into a hurry of thoughts and worries. It took him all of sixteen nanoseconds to realize what he had asked.

     “Oh, uh, I meant-!”

    “It’s fine.” It didn’t sound fine. The wave Keith gave with his hand didn’t seem fine. His words seemed to come from clenched teeth, not just closed ones. “You don’t have to sound like you just got done kicking my puppy.”

     _Annnndd there it is. Lance messed it up._

    There was a silence that lapsed over them and it was suffocating. Lance wasn’t making his bracelet anymore. He held the end of the string bumping against the side of a blue bead, not stringing. Just tapping. A silent repetitive movement that kept him going and somehow keeping him from saying anything else that would completely mess them up more than he already had. He shuddered and shrunk back. Keith stubbornly tied his knots. His eyes were crossed as he looked at his work, his fingers moving deftly and quickly.

    “I…” He didn’t know what he was going to say, he just wanted… The silence was deafening. Thudding against his ribcage and temples, eating away at his stomach like vinegar at marble. He cleared his throat, looking back to his soulmate, who was looking at him. “So I’m doing an interview this week.”

    Keith’s eyebrows raised a bit and he hummed quietly to signal his attention. He paused in his string and pulled it out of his mouth. He settled back into the couch and tiled his body towards Lance. “Oh yeah? Who with?”

    Lance nodded, stringing the bead. “With Hal Pax. He works for an ‘entertainment news’-” he crooked his fingers to add air quotes and a roll of his eyes. “-network. So he reached out to us and apparently my manager liked him better than every other fucking person and their grandma trying to get me to talk about you know.” He waved a hand between them. “ _Us._ So we got a thing going for Thursday, which is live, weirdly. I don’t know why he does his shit live. Live TV scares me. It’s not like theater or TV. It’s _Live_. I mean, at least in theater there’s a limited audience. But with live TV it can be recorded and hundreds see it and it’s all around terrifying.” He shuddered, shrugging his shoulders to shake it out of his system.

    Keith snickered at him, his nose crinkling and he leaned back, his feet skittering across the floor. “You’re terrified of TV!” He wheezed, trying to catch his breath. “You’re a fucking actor, Lance.”

    Lance huffed indignantly and stretched out his bracelet a little, watching how the beads separate just to get away from Keith’s gaze and to partially hide the embarrassed flush on his face. Soon he was looking back up, a light in his eyes as he looked at Keith through his burning cheeks.“Listen man, it’s a legit fear okay!? It’s like _up there_. It’s on the same level as bear attacks.”

     Keith in turn shook his head and put the bracelet back in between his teeth. “You’re silly,” he told him, smiling crookedly.

    “I’m silly? You’re the one with a goddamn string hanging out of your mouth.”

    Keith snorted and tied off the rest of the bracelet. It was three colors, a deep purple, a light blue and a darker shade of the same blue. It was a pretty little intricacy of knots and twists and Lance did _not_ believe that he hadn’t done this since middle school. His soulmate was _lying_ to him because that was just too good.

    “What’re you going to say?” Keith asked.

    Lance blinked. “Oh. In the interview. Yeah, I don’t know. I’m mostly disputing rumors and shit. Clearing up your gender because some people can’t read and apparently you can’t tweet something and have it be done with anymore. You gotta go do a whole interview.”

    “Aww, your tweets loose power?” Keith cooed at him, smirking lightly. “What happened to all that cause and effect like what happened at Tony’s?”

    Lance gave him an unimpressed look. “Ex _cuse me_ because I haven't taken to fighting more than like twenty kids a day on Twitter,” he grumbled. “And that people can’t listen to reason or _reliable sources_.” He shook his head, his lips twisted a little bit to the side. “Anyway. The interview is just going to be clearing things up and setting the records straight on where we stand.”

    Keith looked over to him, his eyebrows raised curiously. “And where do we stand?” Keith blinked and tilted his head just the tiniest bit and Lance’s heart pumped a little faster.

    He took a minute with his answer. “Well… I guess we’re friends, right?”

    Keith’s smile was slow growing, but definitely meaningful. “Yeah. We’re friends.”

    Lance’s eyes brightened with an idea. “Then here.” He took Keith’s wrist and tied the beaded string around it, tying it securely. “Friendship: solidified.” He grinned, a smile which only grew when Keith nodded his approval and tied the one he made around Lance’s wrist, too.

    “Solidified,” he repeated. “Even if your bracelet is hella gay.”

    Lance spluttered a laugh and knocked the side of his fist to Keith’s temple. He could hear the water in the bathroom still running as Allura tried her best to wash out her pillow. Lance briefly wondered how that was going but quickly put it out of his head. His soulmate, his _friend_ was next to him, their knees touching as they giggled like grade schoolers over friendship bracelets. This was good.

Lance really liked this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Darn! Look at me with the longest chapter yet.
> 
> Okay, heavy announcement. Due to NaNoWriMo, there will Not be any updates to the story until December. I have decided to make this my NaNo project, weirdly enough so if all goes to plan, this ought to have +50,000 words added to it by the end of this year. Obviously after November I'll start Actual scheduled updates because Lord knows wwe can't edit and read through everything in one sitting. I would die and my Beta would probably leave me.
> 
> Mikiri waded through this crazy and made it legible!! Thank you!! <3
> 
> Anyways, all that being said, please leave me a comment! They brighten my days considerably and, let's face it, make me actually want to write and add to this AU I have accidentally buried my own grave in.  
> I'm also on tumblr @youngtiredandhungry. Stop by and talk to me!


	15. Sushi and Socials

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha ha ha and y'all thought you were gonna have to wait until December  
> Y'all are funny

         Keith stepped into his building’s elevator just as his phone began ringing. He had to dig through his backpack to find the little black device, but when he did he was instantly answering the call.

    “Hello?”

    “I’m vibrating.”

    Keith paused in confusion before letting himself laugh lightly at his soulmate’s skittery voice. “Kinky.”

    Lance made an upset sound. “Har har. Listen, if I die on live TV then adopt a puppy for me and tell them that his dad’s sorry he couldn’t have been there for him.”

    Keith snorted. “Oh, please.” The elevator car opened and he was allowed to slip out, past an old lady who came stumbling into the car. “There’s no way I would adopt a dog for you just to take care of it by myself.”

    “Even if I paid child support?” Lance asked.

    “Would that even work if you’re dead?” Keith countered, genuinely curious.

    “I… hell, I don’t know.”

    Keith hummed. The walk to work was a quick one, filled with chatting from both ends of the call. Lance was in the appropriate studio as Keith stepped into the little coffee shop, scheduled for work. It was very unfortunate that he was to be working during the interview, but there was a little television hanging in the corner of the shop, close to the counter that he could tune in to the correct channel. Nobody would protest, anyway. Not with how entertaining celebrity interviews usually were, plus the fact that Lance was Keith’s soulmate.

    If Keith were being honest, he’d have to confess that he was nervous; it was both on the part of Lance, but also something deep in his stomach, dark and unforgiving clawing at him and giving him chills. He knew they’d be discussing him. Him and his gender identity and his relationship with Lance, his soulmate. Everyone he had met during his whole endeavor, all of the comments on the instagram he hadn’t posted on in weeks had been asking him how he was faring with Lance. How their dating life was and all that shit. He had no doubts that the interviewer, Hal would assume the same. They were conditioned to think that way, after all. Soulmates supposedly fit together like puzzle pieces and were  _ perfect _ with one another.

    He hoped that Lance had the right words to combat these assumptions.

    Their call ended with Keith wishing Lance luck and Lance asking him if he’d watch it. After confirming that he would be, Lance let out a breath and hung up. Keith was left to slip his apron over his head and trade with one of his co-workers, Lacey, for their place behind the counter.

    He fiddled with the remote stored carefully under the lip of the counter so he could change the channel. It was at a commercial break, but Keith clicked up the volume a tiny bit anyway, despite the captions in black blocks already displaying the speech.

    Due to a customer, he missed the first part of the show and how Lance was introduced, but as the teen girl took her mug to one of the plush chairs under the street window, Keith was able to look back up the the screen. Lance was dressed nicely, per the norm for interviews, Keith supposed. He was in what could be classified as a suit, with a blue blazer over a white button down and pressed black slacks. They had combed his hair as best they could, but it still looked a bit windswept - then again, that could have been the stylist’s intention because it looked  _ good _ .

    He was grinning brightly and Keith didn’t know why he was nervous. Whether it was natural charm (Keith doubted it was that. The only charm Lance had was when he was playing a character or if he was being a dork. There was no in between) or practiced ease, he seemed at home in front of the camera with the blazer that matched his eyes and microphone pinned to his lapel. He reached across his body to the little table between him and Hal to pick up a glass of water and Keith startled for a second. Around Lance’s wrist was a little twisted string. His friendship bracelet. Keith’s cheeks warmed the slightest bit and he laughed to himself. What a dork.

    “How are you Lance, you look well!” Hal was saying, a soft smile on his face that deepened numerous laugh lines along his face.

    Lance’s eyes widened, ad did his mouth. He quickly swallowed and replaced the glass on the table. “Man, your makeup artists are fantastic because I’m tired as hell,” he joked, earning a laugh from the audience and Hal. Lance crossed his legs and leaned forward in his chair a bit. “No, but seriously, I’m doing great! We just got started shooting Altea again-” There was a burst of applause from the audience that had Lance puffing his chest out the littlest bit, smiling brighter than the sun. When the cheers dialed down, he continued. “And I met my soulmate a few weeks ago, so I think I am doing pretty well.”

    Hal hummed. “Yes; your soulmate!” He looked at a little card in his hand. “Keith. You met him what, last month?”

    Lance nodded heavily. “Yep, that’s right.”

    “And the news took the internet by storm! I remember when everyone first found out about, when you posted a picture on Instagram about your Soul Mark.” Hal gestured with his hand to Lance’s, indicating the uncovered mark that proudly sat scrawled across his hand that rested over his knee.

    Lance gave a breathy laugh. “Oh yeah. That got me in trouble.”

    “Did it?”

    Lance gave a burst of energy when he responded. “Yeah! It had just happened the day before right, and I hadn’t even told my manager yet so she knows nothing about it and suddenly I’m trending because my timer ran out and I supposedly found my other hal-”

    Keith jerked away from looking towards the TV when a quick rap on the counter reached his ears. He looked around with wide eyes to see a young man standing at the counter, wallet in hand and an expectant look on his face. He apologized, focusing on the teen. “What can I get you?”

   “Tall black coffee, please. Iced.” Keith quickly made up the drink and let the kid pay before chancing a glance back to the screen. He had missed the rest of Lance’s answer, but they were on to something else by the look of it, with Lance listening intently to what Hal was saying, hands folded in his lap and chin lifted just a tiny bit higher that normal.

    Hal nodded thoughtfully at whatever Lance had said. “And what of the rumors of your soulmate being a young woman?”

    Keith flinched. Hard. His lip curled up the littlest bit and he had to calm his breathing. He knew this was going to happen, that they were going to ask about that. And it would be okay. Lance would say the right thing.

    “Absolutely false. I’m soulmates with a truly amazing  _ man _ . Not a woman.”

    Hal took this in stride. “Well, over half the internet believes that you are, due to an incorrect news report, yes?”

    Keith thought that Lance had clenched his jaw. “Yeah. I mean, I don’t really want to point fingers and lash out but, um.” He shrugged. “Yeah, okay. I do kind of want to do that. It’s a delicate thing, this whole situation and then you have gossip spreading that  _ completely _ disrupts the flow of the weird situation we were in  _ anyway _ with him  _ out _ of the media’s limelight. And then, once that report was seen, people who don’t know any better are now carrying the false report to  _ other _ people who don’t know any better and pretty soon you just have a big, damaging mess that is,” he gave a dry, humorless laugh, “ _ really _ hard to clean up.”

    “And for the viewers who don’t know what this whole ‘mess’ is and what the rumors are exactly, could you elaborate?” Hal asked.

    “Oh, yeah of course.” Lance shifted in his seat, crossing one ankle over the other and leaning one elbow on his chair’s armrest. “A few weeks ago, there was a faulty news report that stated that I had found my soulmate and that they were a woman. I’m not going to say what they called him for obvious reasons.” He rolled his eyes and Keith smiled to himself as he watched the little action. “The reality is that my soulmate is a transman named Keith. The News-Network-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named set off this chain reaction like thing that suddenly had Keith in the public eye long before he ever wanted to be, and they had him in the public eye as a person that he just isn’t anymore.

    “And from that, there’s been people that have been unintentionally spreading this misinformation and doing serious damage. And that was a whole complete deal in its own. It’s incredibly hard on Keith, anyway with all of the sudden attention, let alone the fact that thousands keep misgendering him based on a false television report. Just because it’s been on TV doesn’t make it true.”

    Lance blew out a breath, signalling the end of his explanation. And there it was. Keith felt a little lighter, somehow because yes,  _ that’s _ his identity. He was not a girl. He was a man and there was no denying that. It sounded so good out loud. Affirmation was sweet, but this just about put him in a sugar coma.

    “And you’ve taken to trying to correct people on Twitter, now?”

    Keith remembered Lance saying something about that the night before. About fighting kids on Twitter or something along those lines.

    Lance deflated against the back of the couch, giving Hal a look. He sucked in a breath. “Yo, those got me in trouble, too. Apparently I’m not supposed to pick fights with people over hurtful things, even on Twitter.” He scratched at the side of his face, averting his eyes. “But even so, I honestly don’t care. This is an issue that needs fought for, even if on the little scale of tweeting fights with people and doing interviews.”

    Hal hummed. “If you ask me, any little bit helps. Like you said, if you’re fighting for something like trans rights to their names and pronouns and against transphobia, I think your manager ought to let your reins go a little bit and turn her head.”

    Hal laughed and Lance laughed along, too. Lance agreed with him and took a drink from his glass.

    “Getting onto a lighter topic,” Hal muttered, looking down to his note cards.

    Keith wiped down the counter while he watched on. He helped a few customers and cleaned the espresso machine in an effort to split his attention and not be so sucked into the interview and miss customers.

    Hal asked Lance how they met.

    “Oh, we met at a coffee shop.” The answer was easy and flowed. It was the truth, even if as he went on, he seriously downplayed the story. “It was a crazy few minutes. Basically we exchanged numbers before he had to get back to his shift.” Keith remembered a lot more embarrassment and cursing, honestly.

    “So he worked at the coffee shop?” Hal asked, tilting his head a bit.

    Lance paused. “Uh… I don’t know if I can say that, Hal.”

    The older man nodded his understanding. “Of course, of course. But tell me, how’d you feel after you met Keith?”

    Lance quirked his lips. “Pretty frazzled,” he admitted. “I think I called my mom. And then my best friend. Like I said, it felt super crazy at the time.”

    Hal grinned. “Finding your soulmate will do that to a guy.”

    Lance snorted. “You’ve got no idea.”

    Hal laughed brightly. “It looks like it’s time for a break. Lance, thank you so much for coming and talking with me, Lance.”

    Lance smiled and stood up, following Hal’s lead and the two of them shook hands. “Thank you for having me down here.” The few words they said to each other after that were cut off as the camera swept up the studio set and the program cut to a commercial break. Keith looked back to his work and lowered the volume of the television. He felt a little smile creeping up his mouth. Fuck.

TheTailor: when do you get off??

    Keith looked down to his phone, Voltron app open and clearly displaying Lance’s private message. It was around three, now - four hours after Lance’s interview. Keith stuffed his apron in this work locker and began to unbutton his white shirt. He tapped out a response when he was halfway out of his shirt.

Keith2urHeart: uh… now?

Keith2urHeart: 3 mins ago?

   He finished removing his outer shirt, leaving him in his white ribbed tank top and binder. He hung the shirt up in his locker and pulled a different button down, this one a navy and shrugged it on. He snapped the pearl buttons quickly. It wasn’t very long at all whenever Keith keyed in and sent another message.

Keith2urHeart: your interview went well   
Keith2urHeart: You didnt die

TheTailor: Nope! Sadly now i dont get a puppy son but yknow that’s life i guess

Keith2urHeart: you can adopt a puppy all on your own Lance no one is stopping you

TheTailor: ugh

TheTailor: it’ll be so hard without another parent to help me tho

    Keith sent him a rolling eyes emoji.

TheTailor: anyway

TheTailor: can we meet up? My manager wants to talk w/ us

    Keith’s eyebrow lifted and he paused in getting dressed long enough to reply.

Keith2urHeart: Is it bad?

TheTailor: nah. She just wants to talk to us about like public appearances and shit. Idk. i’ll take you out to sushi if you come?

Keith2urHeart: you don’t have to bribe me with food

TheTailor: maybe not but im starving

Keith2urHeart: ok whatever

Keith2urHeart: what’s the address?

TheTailor: I can just send a car?

    Keith paused a second in thought but slowly shook his head at the screen.

Keith2urHeart: it’s fine. I can get an uber real quick

    Lance sent over the office building address and Keith let out a breath. He grabbed his snapback from the little shelf in his locker before grabbing his backpack out of it so he could shut the locker. He shrugged his way out of the staff room and off to the front of the store, saying goodbye to the girl on staff on his way out. He thumbed around on his phone, calling for the Uber.

    Nearly thirty minutes later, Keith was being let through the correct office door by a pretty black haired secretary, feeling underdressed in his black work pants and sneakers in the office building filled with smart dressed workers. Inside the office looked very modern in design, from the contemporary art on the walls to the slick, armless leather chairs in front of the wide, intimidating desk behind which an equally intimidating sat straight backed and proper. The only imperfection to her appearance was how her glasses slid down to rest on the end of her nose and even that only added to her image, as she could easily look down her nose, over her thin glasses frames if she chose.

    Keith wanted to shiver but he held back as he feared that if he showed a sign of fear that she might do something awful to him.  _ Fuuuck. _

    She didn’t have time to offer up on that evil act though, as Lance, who Keith saw was sitting on the second of the armless leather chairs, sprung up. He wore a grin on his face and little crinkles to the sides of his eyes. He was sucking on a lolly and the white stick stuck out the corner of his mouth, pointing in the air proudly.

    “Keith! There you are. I was beginning to think you got jumped or somethin’.”

    “There was traffic,” Keith shot back defensively.

    The woman behind the desk waved the matter away as she stood. “Mr. Kogane, my name is Carla Robins. Pleasure to meet you.” She moved across the desk and held out her hand and Keith quickly moved forward to shake it.

    “Nice to meet you,” he said to her in turn.

    “Has Lance told you what we’re meeting about?” she asked. Her voice was smooth and a little lower in pitch than Keith had originally thought.

    “Public appearances?” he said, more a question than an answer. “He didn’t say a lot.” He looked to Lance who shrugged lightly, his smile more of a smirk now.

    “Sounds like Lance.” Ms. Robins shot him a look and this time Lance did shrink a little bit. “Anyway. Ths meeting is grossly overdue. See,” she offered a seat and Keith took the other chair after Lance returned to his. Carla sat on the corner of her desk, hands folded gently on her thigh. “-after everything about this has come out, there has obviously been some backlash.” Keith couldn’t hold back his snort. Carla pointedly didn’t say anything about that. “And due to that, there has been thousands of fans led to believe lies about both of you. Particularly that Keith is a ciswoman. We all know that this is false, but we need to get the word out that this is false and that the two of you aren’t on bad terms because of this.” She paused. “You’re  _ not _ , are you?” she asked, her eyebrows in a little furrow. Keith shook his head. “Good,” she nodded. “And because you’re not, you two need to be seen together. You need to be seen having fun, being young and happy.

    “Obviously I’m not asking you to date,” she said to Keith’s growingly concerned face. “I’m asking you to publicize.” She had a tone like that clarified everything. “Keith, your socials are all private right now, yes?” He nodded, a little confused. “I need you to make them public again. Obviously you don’t have to and I know that you probably have reservations about beginning to publicly posting pictures again, but that’d be the best route. Posting pictures of each other on your socials, get caught by the tabs doing something simple and friendly… Little things like that. We need to assure the fans that even though you’re both from very differing circles, you’re still soulmates and you’re still happy together - even if platonically.”

    “That’s… actually really easy. I thought you were gonna make us go on dates and shit.” Lance hummed from his seat sounding enlightened.

    Carla rolled her eyes. “No. I just want what you two want: clarify. I want fan harassment to be at a bare minimum and, well, a little positive soulmate induced publicity never hurt anybody.” She smiled and Keith got the feeling that this woman might be a little evil. “Now I’m not going to  _ plan _ these outings unless you both want me to. I can arrange them, if you’d like. Dinner dates, movie premiers, sappy picnics, just name it and I can put it together. I’d feel a little more natural and well,  _ close _ if you’d both do it yourselves. You knows, maybe you could get your sister in on it, Lance?”

    Lance nodded. “I think Allura would be over the goddamn moon, honestly.” He snorted and rubbed at his nose. Keith caught sight of the bracelet still wound around his wrist. Just like an inflating balloon, warmth spread through his chest. He had to blink a few times to refocus.

    Carla nodded thoughtfully. “I’d say that’s the road to go along, then. Be seen, be happy.”

    “O...kay,” Keith muttered. Lance stood and Keith followed suit.

    “Call me if you need anything,” Carla told Lance. Keith wasn’t sure if the look she sent to him signified how the invitation was extended to him as well, but that how it looked to him. Keith shook her hand and gave a polite nod.

    Meanwhile Lance was beside them, stretching out his arms with a little groan. Keith told himself later that he didn’t let his eyes linger on the length of forearm displayed by the rolled back cuffs on his sleeves, or how the lines of his back could be seen through the fabric of his white button down, but then again, Keith lied to himself quite regularly. He relaxed and he and Carla shared a smile and a nod before Lance was gathering up his blue blazer and tugging Keith out of the room by the strap of his backpack.

    “C’mon, c’mon,” Lance urged.

    “What’s so important?” Keith asked, not enjoying at all how Lance just tugged him to the elevator.

    “Sushi!”

         The sushi place was high end. High end, fancy and fucking  _ delicious _ .

    Keith hummed around a California roll. “That was weird,” Keith told Lance, his mouth still full. Ew. He’d definitely been spending too much time with his soulmate. “We’re friends one second and goddamn circus animals the next.

    Lance raised his eyebrows, chopsticks still in his mouth. He removed them. Chewed and swallowed. “Nah. Not circus animals. Think of it like… Well, acting. But not really, because we’re actually friends, right?” Keith nodded. “Yeah. So we just gotta like, flaunt that shit everywhere. We gotta make more friendship bracelets. Matching this time. We gotta paint each other’s fingernails and make each other soups. We gotta throw each other the craziest fucking birthday parties known to man! We gotta-!”

    Keith stuffed a piece of sushi in his mouth. “I get it, thanks.” He laughed, hiding his mouth behind his wrist, his chopsticks still dangling in his fingers. “Anyway. How the fuck do people schedule their friend time? That’s ridiculous and just feels…” He crinkled his nose up in distaste. “Manufactured, I guess?”

    Lance was too busy with his piece of sushi to answer. He took his time chewing through and swallowing, pinning on a drink from his glass, too. He shrugged a shoulder, a smirk coming to his mouth. “This is fame, darling. Eighty nine percent of it manufactured.”

    Keith made a face. “That’s sort of sad.”

    Lance shrugged. “It’s whatever, I guess. You meet a lot of amazing people. Like did you know that Hunk and I  _ actually _ met because of Altea?”

    Keith hummed in thought. He ate another piece of sushi and shook his head. “No, I didn’t.” He’d thought they’d been friends for a lot longer than that, honestly. With the way they act around each other it seemed like they had been together since kindergarten. “That’s pretty neat.”

    “I know!” Lance burst, attracting the eyes of a few staff members. “Like, he’s my best friend and I get to work with him and fuck around with him on set and stuff while we work. It’s great.” He nodded solemnly and Keith gave a laugh.

    Keith ate a few more bites before something came to his mind and he put down his chopsticks resolutely for a second. “So Allura said that your family is flying out from New York soon. Are you all going to do something special?”

    Lance’s eyes lightened. “Mm, yeah! Next week! We never really do anything  _ special _ , you know. It’s mostly they come over, we go to a movie and just hang out for a few days. Allura and I only have like Thursday through Monday off, but that’ll be enough to spend with them all. Jamie and I were going to go to see a movie next Friday. It’s already been out for a few weeks but I haven’t seen it yet and neither has he so we figured we could go.” He shrugged. “And then it’s a family dinner where everybody congregates in my apartment for a big-ass Sunday meal.” He shuddered. “For some reason they just fucking  _ love _ to gather in  _ my _ apartment. Nevermind Allura’s! No, it’s always mine. Just because I have a few extra bedrooms.” He rolled his eyes. “Anyway,” he muttered, “it’s its own brand of crazy, lemme tell ya.”

    Keith nodded in understanding. “Sounds like holidays at mom’s,” he said. “Especially since dad comes and then it becomes its own brand of  _ awkward _ because of Christi.” His face twisted and his shoulders shuddered.

    “Christi?” Lance questioned.

    “My step-mom,” Keith told him. “She’s been in the picture for around three years and we’re still not all that used to her yet.” He shrugged a shoulder. “She’s okay. Just not the best.” Lance nodded, processing the information.

    They finished off their meal and Lance paid the bill, insisting because it was his idea and it was he who dragged Keith across the city to speak to his manager directly after his work shift.

    Keith called an Uber to pick him up and take him home, even though Lance had offered four times to let him drive Keith home. Keith refused because Lance paid for the food and it’d just be a waste of time to take Keith all the way home.

    Lance waited with him for the Uber to arrive. When it had arrived, Lance caught him by the wrist before he could get two steps away from the blue convertible.

    Keith looked at him with a raised brow. “My car’s here, Lance.

    “So about my family…” Lance trailed off, worrying his lip.

    “Yeah?”

    “They aren’t going to be in town again until fall.” Lance let go of his wrist and stood a little taller, like he was gathering his strength so he could blurt something out he wouldn’t have otherwise asked. “Do you want to come over to my apartment on Sunday and have dinner with them?” His eyes were so wide and full of some kind of courage that Keith had to catch his breath.

    He agreed before he could process the request.

    Lance’s face brightened instantly. “That’s-! That’s great!” He grinned, all teeth and joy. “I’ll see you Sunday then?”

    Keith smiled to mask the reality quickly catching up to him.  _ Um _ . Fuck.

     “Yeah, I’ll see you Sunday.” He twisted around so he could hurry to his Uber. He waved at Lance one last time before he got in the car.

    Lance must have thought Keith was looking away because he twisted around too and popped his fist in the air excitedly. Keith laughed at him before giving the driver his address.

    Meeting the family?  _ Fuck _ .

* * *

 

TheTailor: guess what i just did

ActualSkyPidgeon: what’d you do?

HunkOBurninLove: Are you ok Lance?

TheTailor: yeah Hunk Im good

TheTailor: I feel like i just had a heart attack but good

RagretfulDad203: What did you do though??

ActualSkyPidgeon: did you end up in a tab bc you did something stupid??

TheTailor: no dont be dumb

holtyaapplesauce: you crashed your car and horribly disfigured your face

TheTailor: don’t even jOKE ABT MY WORST NIGHTMARE

holtyaapplesauce: whAT DID YOU DO THAT DESERVED ADDING ME TO THIS GAME OF 20000 QUESTIONS

TheTailor: Holy shit Matt, geeZ

TheTailor: But finee

TheTailor: You guys know how our fam is coming over soon af??

MiceWhisperer: Yes

MiceWhisperer: hwat about it? They’re still coming right?

TheTailor: oh yeah, they are

TheTailor: But Uh

holtyaapplesauce: I swear to God.

TheTailor: OKAY

TheTailor: I invited Keith along to the Sunday family dinner.

ActualSkyPidgeon: oooooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

ActualSkyPidgeon: DAMN SON

ActualSkyPidgeon: Way to be besties ya soulmate im proud

RagretfulDad203: Did he say yes tho

TheTailor: yes. Yes he did. And then I danced in my car for half an hour

RagretfulDad203: Then I’m proud of you too!

holtyaapplesauce: not for the car dancing

holtyaapplesauce: cause that’s lame who dances in xyr car

RagretfulDad203: You do, babe

RagretfulDad203: Regularly.

ActualSkyPidgeon: O-O Shiro you just went and fucked yourself

holtyaapplesauce: lance turn back there’s no need for a soulmate they’re all dickS like shIRO HERE

holtyaapplesauce: why musst you hurt me in this way

RagretfulDad203: It’s because i care Matt

RagretfulDad203: and I love you

RagretfulDad203: v much.

RagretfulDad203: and the way you dance in your seat to Beyonce’s Single Ladies everytime I enter the car despite having heard that song too many times to possibly count

ActualSkyPidgeon: dad did you just kind of bash Beyonce.

RagretfulDad203: No I’m just saying that evERYtime I ride with Matthew it’s always the SAME song until I practically beg him to change the song or let me have the aux

TheTailor: BACK TO MY PROBLEM YOU DISTRACTED DUMBASSES

HunkOBurninLove: Lance that was Not Nice

MiceWhisperer: no kidding I don’t see what Keith sees in you

TheTailor: …………..

TheTailor: guys

TheTailor: I invited him to DINNER with my FAMILY

MiceWhisperer: I can’t wait for that it’s gonna be great

HunkOBurninLove: Lance what’s the problem with inviting Keith to dinner?

TheTailor: for starters my fam’s going to ask lots of ~questions~ about our soulmate-ness and that’s gonna be awkward

TheTailor: and everyone will rag on me for getting Keith into the mess he’s in

ActualSkyPidgeon: but you did get him into that mess

TheTailor: i know this.

TheTailor: anyway and then after that it’s just going to be very………………………

TheTailor: my family is going to eat him alive

MiceWhisperer: we’re not that bad Lance

MiceWhisperer: Ok Nicole is but she’s not gonna be there ‘cause she’s in DC so we’re all good in that dept

TheTailor: but like

TheTailor: if all of you guys get together and have access to Keith then that means that all of you can now share my deepest and darkest secrets like that time i broke my arms pole vaulting for that kid Jeremy smalls in eighth grade

MiceWhisperer: I completely forgot about that until you just brought it up

TheTailor: Oh.

RagretfulDad203: Lance maybe you should stop bringing up old dirt that you’ll regret later

TheTailor: Allura don’t tell keith that

MiceWhisperer: i’ll think about it :D

TheTailor: fuck you allura fuck Youu

MiceWhisperer: Pfffffftttttdgjhjdkhgidfghjgrt

    While Lance had taken to the chat group for his news, Keith took face planting the couch. He yelled, loud and long into the pillow. He was undecided as to if it was because of the giddiness or the nervousness battling it out in his stomach. He went with the need to up heave and let out bottle up emotions and reactions.

* * *

 

    “Are you okay?” Julie asked from her bedroom. 

    Keith picked his head up from his pillow, wide eyed and a little short of breath from his yelling. “Lance asked me to meet his family this weekend!” he called in return.

    Julie matched his excitement instantly and the nerves were temporarily forgotten.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my NaNo is going great! I'm over 20K in and decided "You know, the fandom has been kind of dead the past few days and a lot of people are spite-posting the gay so I might as well do it, too" And here we are. I'm spite-posting the gay and hopefULLY it put a smile on somebody's face in this dark time when that soggy cheetoh was elected the fucking president.  
> Anyway. On a lighter note: LET ME TELL YOU NANO HAS BEEN A WILD RIDE. I finally got to write their first kiss the other day, which made me so happy but it's like so far down the road that I'm like "???? Why do you do this??" But it'll be great I swear. It'll be _fun_  and great and hopefully worth the wait.
> 
> Thanks to my beta Mikiri!!! :)
> 
> Please leave me a comment! They fuel my being and will definitely motivate me to keep going with NaNo (I've hit a dry spot smh. I need Encouragement, ya feel) I reply to them all! (I try to anyway.......)  
> I'm also on tumblr @youngtiredandhungry !!
> 
> I hope you all have had a good day if you didn't, then I hope that this brightened it a little. Stay safe and keep your hope alive <33


	16. Of Shrimp and Sparkles

    Keith took Ms. Robins’ advice and had his profiles public again that night. There was the constant stream of comments again. Everytime he refreshed his Twitter account (the fans found him. He wasn’t entirely surprised) there was a significant jump in the amount of followers he had. He still hadn’t looked back over to his Instagram, nor had he posted anything since the month before where he shared this thoughts just after telling his mom that he and Lance had been connected. That was a significant lull since he was usually quite active on that platform.

    After making all of them public again, nothing changed like he thought it would. Perhaps there would be a monumental event where he would receive a litany of death threats that wouldn’t cease until he turned his socials off again. That didn’t happen, of course. The most that had happened that he really took note of was how a few people with the verified symbol had followed his account and had liked a few of his tweets. That sort of made him stress, if he were honest. For the love of God, how was he supposed to tweet with them on his back? He couldn’t. The pressure to embarrass himself was too strong for that.

    The pressure was too big, but the boredom was even stronger.

    The day after Lance’s interview was a day off for Keith. A rare occurrence during the weekdays. He didn’t necessarily feel safe enough to go out on the Friday night that it was, but he didn’t want to stay cooped up, either.

    His solution was to crack all the windows and throw open the balcony door to let as much light as he could in and he set his music as loud as he deemed fit on a TV app and set to work on a commission he had just taken on. It was something that was absolutely silly, branching from joking around with one of his classmates. A messy ink and marker sketch featuring what was to be a crystal ball with a rainbow in its middle with the words _“I predict happiness in your future_ ” in spidery letters turned into said classmate declaring, quite loudly in fact, that if Keith would repaint the whole thing and make it cleaner (and more gay was certainly an option) then they would gladly pay him for it.

    And there he was, crouched in front of his coffee table with the canvas in front of him with X Ambassadors sounding in the air around him with the smell of oil paint filling his nose. However, inevitably, there was always the Lance factor.

    Lance who had called Keith up half an hour in with the question “Doin’ anything today?”

    Keith put the volume down on the TV a small bit so he could also listen to the man on his phone. He outlined the curve of the crystal ball in black ink, skipping by where a line of white paint was to go.  “It’s my day off,” he told Lance with a little shrug.

    He and Lance both filled the little space between them at the same time.

    Lance with: “Then you want to go out or something?” and Keith right along with him with: “But I’m painting right now.”

    Lance sounded like he startled. “Oh. _Oh_ , okay. Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get in the middle of that. I just wanted to know if you wanted to go do something today.”

    Keith sighed and moved the fluid around the canvas in places where the reflections would really _pop_. Keith hummed a little bit and thought on it for a second, his hands never leaving the canvas. “I can’t today. I really have to get this shit done.”

    “Oh,” Lance muttered quietly. Keith softened a little and flipped his paintbrush so that the tip was pointing in the air as he held it upside down.

    Keith worried at his lip. “You can come over if you don’t start to distract me,” he compromised, his voice level and borderline uninterested, contrary to the the little skip and flip his stomach went through the thought of letting Lance come in and bug him while he painted. That sounded domestic and awful… well, just really nice, actually.

    That sounded nice and so did the grin in Lance’s voice when he talked next. The sound certainly did not make his chest tighten the tiniest bit or let loose a garden’s worth of butterflies loose in his stomach area. Nah. Definitely not.

    “Yeah, that’d be great! I promise I won’t distract you too badly.” Keith knew that was a lie and he was pretty sure that Lance did, too. Neither of them commented on it though as Lance was going off again. “Do I need to pick up anything on the way? I could cook lunch. Have you eaten lunch yet?”

    Keith hummed and made a little face at his canvas. “I don’t know,” he hummed unhelpfully, cocking his head at the weird line that drew his attention.

    “You don’t know if you’ve eaten or not?” Lance questioned.

    “Oh,” Keith said, blinking. He’d spaced out for a second, focused more on his work than the words between them. “No, I haven’t eaten yet. I’m just getting around to it, actually.”

    Lance scoffed against the receiver. “Unacceptable,” he said. “I’m bringing stuff over and I’m gonna cook for you.”

    “You don’t have to. I could just order take out or something for us.”

    Another huff. “No, dude. Absolutely not. I’m getting groceries and then I’m coming over to cook for you.” There was a rattling, like a jingle of keys in Lance’s hand and then a shutting door. “Friends don’t let friends art their day away and forget to eat.”

    “I haven’t forgotten to eat,” he snapped defensively. “I… just haven’t made it into the kitchen yet today.” Which was true. He had woken up later than his usual time and got up just a little while ago. He skipped passed making any coffee as it was already half after ten in the morning and went to shower (he was steadily losing his taste for the stuff, anyway. Now that it wasn’t needed for grueling all night study sessions in order to pass his classes for the next month, he might even quit the stuff for a while). After that he settled down and fiddled with his phone before going after that piece he had yet to finish.

    “ _Rriiiiiigghhht_ ,” Lance drawled on the other line. “You keep telling yourself that, Champ. I’ll be at yours in a little while. Look out for me, okay?”

    Keith hummed a little. “Okay,” he said. Lance clicked ended the call and then, just like magic, Keith’s phone was tossed in the couch cushions and his music was cranked up again.

    A few minutes more and Keith was fidgeting around trying to find a comfortable position to paint in, going from crouching in front of the coffee table to kneeling in the same spot basically hanging upside down with his back on the couch cushions and his knees crooked over the back. He tried sitting on crossed legs on the floor with the canvas in his lap, standing straight with it held on one curled arm and about every other position he could think of without trying to stand on his hands while he painted. That would be just… messy.

    And thus he found himself flopped down on the couch, a paintbrush in his teeth like one would hold a pencil as he scrolled through his phone. Maybe if he waited around for a few minutes and came back to it later than he would find a good place.

    He dusted off his Instagram a few minutes ago, making the first post in weeks. It was of his coffee table, funnily enough. The canvas was half in the frame, with his paints and supplies scattered around the rest of the table. The illumination from the window gave it a very light feel, as did the little caption: _day off w/ nothing to do but wait_.

    He entertained himself with the comments that came quickly after. There was an over abundance of ones simply asking about Lance, but others were very flattering. They mentioned the half finished canvas, still smudged with blacks and whites, the mess of paints on the glass top and the song choice he had caught in the TV behind him. Then there was another comment that had Keith’s getting curious.

_KittyCat57: AHH OMFG I THOUGHT THAT LANCE’S TWEET WAS ABOUT HIS PSOULMATE BUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

    Keith’s eyebrows furrowed at the little comment. Lance was tweeting about him? With a quick few taps, Keith was on Twitter and looking up Lance’s profile and _sure enough_ , Lance was fucking posting about him. With as many emojis as he texted with, Lance’s tweet read: _Goin to see the bae #lookinfly #gonnawinhisheart2K16_

_ _

    Keith rolled his eyes so hard he feared he was going to get a headache. He didn’t mind the uncomfortable heat under his collar that was steadily rising up to swirl in his cheeks.

    “ _Oh my God_ ,” he murmured to himself, looking over the tweet and it’s sheer number of likes and retweets. Well, he thought, at least this sort of counts as publicity. It’s… verifying that they’re going to be in the same place in the same time… Kind of. What was he even thinking? There was nothing even hinting that Lance was going over to see Keith specifically.

    There was a little knock that sounded over his music and Keith tossed his phone over to a separate couch cushion and went to get the door. There stood Lance, grinning brightly with a number of white plastic bags in his hand. He came in through the space Keith allowed him, cooing “Honey, I’m home.”

    “That’s it, get out,” Keith said, opening the door wider instead of shutting it. Lance gave a laugh and put his bags onto the kitchen table.

    “Hardy-har. If I leave who will make you lunch?” he asked, eyebrow cocked in his soulmate's direction.

    “I didn’t say you had to take the food with you.” Keith let the door swing shut and click into the lock. “I’m sure I could figure out whatever the hell you were going to do with it.” He gestured his hand vaguely to the mess of groceries on the table. There was a small bag of raw shrimp and separate bag of frozen broccoli.

    Lance laughed in what Keith guessed was supposed to be an evil sort or laugh. “ _Ha_. You can’t! It’s a special recipe that my grandma taught me and my siblings as children. Only a select few know its secrets!”

    Keith stepped forwards and looked into the bags: the aforementioned shrimp and broccoli, assorted oils and spices to make what was probably a sauce of some kind and a bag of brown rice. Keith looked at his soulmate, unimpressed. “You’re going to stir fry,” he said with a shrug. “Pretty basic.”

    Lance looked positively offended. “Never in my life have I ever taken such a blow,” he sniffled. “Go. Get out of my kitchen. Go _paint_ , you culinary heathen!” He shoed Keith out of the kitchen and Keith went, sniggering all the way back to the couch. Instead of staying there, he took up his work and transferred them to the farthest corner of the kitchen table, out of Lance's way (plus Lance was out of his way so that was a major plus). Lance blundered around Keith’s kitchen, asking for specifics like frying pans, cutting boards and knives. Keith directed him easily with his words, not looking up from his canvas.

    He ended up in a kitchen chair, sitting on one ankle as he held the canvas at a tilt in front of him with his brush making that addicting scratching sound against the canvas grain. The sound blended in with the soft crackling at the stove as Lance cooked the shrimp and cut up the broccoli into the prefered pieces. There was still music in the background, a Panic! song this time.

    “It smells good,” Keith said and looked up from his work to see Lance over the still at work, now stirring in the broccoli with a wooden spoon. He tossed his soulmate a little smirk and a laugh through his nose.

    “I told you it’d rock your mother loving socks off!” he sang and looked back to his dish. Keith’s nose wrinkled.

    “You said no such thing,” Keith pointed out.

    Lance paused, eyebrows up in question. “Didn’t I?” Keith shook his head and Lance’s lips quirked downward with a hum. “Maybe I dreamed that…” he muttered, looking into the cooking oil.

    It was Keith’s turn to smirk. He put his canvas down, poked his paintbrush behind his ear and propped his chin atop the back of his hand. “Oh? You dream about me then, Lance?” he teased. Lance whipped his head over to look at him, red in the face and hot under the collar.

    “W-What are you talking about?” he asked, his stammer trailing off until he regained his steady voice at the end of his question. He waved his wooden spoon like he was waving off Keith’s words. Keith rather thought that he was trying to cool himself off. “You’re crazy.” Lance told him certainly. “Really crazy.”

    Keith snorted, his smile stretching farther across his face. “I must be pretty dreamy to you, huh?” Lance didn’t even look at him that time, he only ducked his head and poked harder in the pan when Keith blinked. _Oh fuck_ , he thought mutedly, _that’s…_

    He cleared his throat and looked back down to his work and forced himself to focus on the lines and where to put the green on his brush instead of what was on his mind and the color on his own cheeks. He sure hoped this wouldn’t be a reoccurring theme. Because this was… awfully embarrassing, blushing like a goddamn fourth grade school girl everytime you turn around.

    “So what are you working on?” Lance asked after a second. It startled Keith out of his little mission to focus on his colors and how to possibly drain all of the color from his cheeks before Lance could notice.

    “Just something for a friend,” Keith told him. Lance looked over to him and Keith lifted his piece so that  his soulmate could look at it.

    Lance laughed lightly at the loose design and bright colors inside of the crystal ball. “Looks gay,” he commented, a grin in place.

    Keith nodded seriously. “But is it gay _enough_?” he questioned. “I’m just trying to decide.”

    Lance took the question in stride, like this was a very serious matter - which, all in all might count as one. Keith had money riding on this, after all. “Well, I think that only way it could get gayer was if there was a couple actually being gay in the picture,” he said. “But there’s always more sparkles and glitter. Colors are great. Just my opinion.”

    Keith snorted. “I am _not_ adding glitter to my painting, Lance,” he huffed indignantly. “But yeah, maybe a bit more color in the ball wouldn’t hurt.”

    “You could color the letters.” Lance took the pan off the stove and transferred the food onto a plate. “Rainbow colored lettering can go a long way, you know.”

    Keith hummed and looked down at the letters on the canvas. He was right. Keith could paint over the black outlined letters, giving it the extra burst of simply _gay_ that it needed. He laughed at the idea and looked up to Lance. “Is it done?” he questioned,watching as he divided portions onto two plates.

    “Yep,” Lance confirmed. “Put your shit away, we’re gonna eat.”

    Keith snorted. “What happened to not interrupting my painting?” he asked, paying no mind to the little growl his stomach made at the smell of the food.

    “Friends don’t let friends art on empty stomachs,” he said, repeating his earlier words.

    Keith groaned half heartedly, but ultimately did put his things back in the living room. “That wasn’t even a sentence that made sense!” Keith proclaimed as he came back into the kitchen, just in time for Lance to hand him a steaming plate.

    “Shush,” Lance waved his hand in passing. “You got what I meant why did it have to be correct grammar?”

    Keith retrieved two forks from the drawer and gave Lance one before he spoke. “This is why you became an actor, isn’t it? Because they script your conversations and you don’t have to worry about grammar.”

    Lance looked thoroughly offended. “How could you say that!? I have fantastic grammar most of the time. Besides - I became an actor for the fame and the thrill of playing a character that has nothing to do with my person.”

    “Whatever,” Keith said and poked around with his fork on his plate. Lance grudgingly took a bite and chewed almost with a vengeance. He frowned suddenly and looked down to his plate. He looked over back to the stove and the little unopened bag sitting there.

    “I forgot to cook the rice,” he confessed in a small voice. “And I can’t cook it _now_ because everything will be cold by the time it gets finished…”

    A laugh bubbled up in Keith’s chest as he led the way to the living room.

    Keith sat down heavily and quickly tucked into his shrimp. Lance did the same on the opposite end of the couch, muttering something about the song that was on.

    Keith disregarded him because _he liked this song thanks very much_. He glanced over to his soulmate and adopted a small smirk to his face. “Saw your tweet,” he began conversationally. Lance looked up quizzically

    “Tweet?” he asked slowly before recognition flittered around his face and his jaw dropped silently.

    Keith snorted a laugh. “Does that count as publicity? Going off to steal my heart?”

    Lance turned red and he cleared his throat. “Er, of course it does!” he said, fake bravado coloring his voice. “Gotta let the people know that we’re tight and stuff…” He trailed off, his energetic words quickly losing traction.

    Keith scoffed a laugh, taking a bite of his shrimp. “Sure thing, Lance.”

    “Well, I mean, it’d probably be better if it was explicit rather than implied, like a tweeted picture of either of us in your place or whatever, you know? But yeah, sure, that totally counts.” Lance was talking into his plate now, trailing off into oblivion and ending with a mouthful of broccoli. A cautious sort of tension bled from Lance, one that told Keith that he was thinking about the picture of him that was circulated.

    Keith chew his lip and ate a few bites before he spoke again. “This is really good; what’s in the sauce?”

    Lance perked up, grinning and began to tell of his grandmother’s super secret recipe that only a total of thirteen (now fourteen, Lance relents) people on the planet knew of. Keith listened intently, learning the special recipe Lance was willing to share with him.

         “You know,” Keith started after they were finished eating. They were still in the living room, but Keith had started working again. “I don’t see why you agreed to come over there’s literally nothing to keep you entertained,” Keith muttered from his position tucked into the arm of the couch. “I’m just working.” He looked up to Lance who was sprawled lengthways across the same couch, looking through his phone as he hummed along to Keith’s playlist.

    He shrugged. “It’s chill. Down time is always good.” He shifted his legs, accidentally bumping against Keith’s ankle. “Besides, I like this better than going out.”

    Keith’s stare was incredulous. “Oh really?” he asked.

    Lance settled his phone down onto his chest. “Okay, so maybe not all the time. I love going out. It’s great - partying it up and getting loose on the dance floor-” He did a little shimmy with his shoulders that had Keith snorting a laugh. “-but this is really nice, too. Just settle in and,” he gave a little one shouldered shrug, “enjoy each other’s company.”

    Keith hummed, enlightened and looked back to his work, letting things lie. It really was relaxing, Keith realized, with Lance on the other end of the couch, their ankles touching. There wasn’t a whole lot to it, really. They were just in the same space, barely even talking as Lance was messing around on his phone and Keith painting. There was a few times where Lance crawled across the space and shoved his phone in Keith’s face, laughing hysterically at some meme.

    But really over all, Keith agreed with Lance. It was very nice to kick back and enjoy each other’s company (he didn’t think of his earlier musing about this being _domestic_ because it _wasn’t_ ).

    A thought struck him as he was making to peel off a flake of paint smeared along his palm. He flattened his legs, letting them line up with Lance’s as he worked. He willed his voice to sound like he didn’t care as much as he did about his sudden revelation. “So about next Sunday,” he said to his canvas. He saw Lance look up quickly from his peripheral vision. “What’s it going to be like? Do I need to cook anything or dress up?”

    Lance snorted a laugh. “God, no! First off, my parents love to cook so we’ll be covered. Unless you want to bring some ice cream or something like that for afterwards, you don’t have to worry about it. You don’t have to dress up, either. It’ll just be us, Allura and the others so there’s no need.” He knocked his foot against Keith’s leg and smiled at him. “It’ll be great,” he assured him. “We’re gonna eat dinner and then like, play a round of Monopoly. Maybe have a glass of wine after Minnie heads to bed. It’s nothing to stress about.”

    Keith gave him a look, but set his soulmate’s words in his mind as a means of a calming method. He worried at the inside corner of his mouth and willed himself to ask about his growing concern. “Okay,” he said, nodding. It sounded more like a breath than a word, but he didn’t dwell on that. “I know it’s a stupid question but what about your parents? What do they think about-?” He made a vague gesture at himself and straightened up a bit.

    Lance traced the movement with his eyes, his brow furrowed in confusion. “About you or our soulmate-ness?” he asked slowly, trying to decipher the question by himself.

    “Both.”

    “Ah,” Lance nodded. “I talk to my dad pretty regularly so they’re updated on most everything. Us, I mean. How we’re not dating and stuff.” He pulled one leg up under the other as he continued on. “And you’ve got nothing to worry about if you’re worried about their views on trans or gay people. They’re the best. None of them have any qualms about any of that kind of stuff.” He glanced back down at his phone as it let out a little chime, but was soon looking right back up to his soulmate. “Three out of five of their kids are hella queer, plus how they’re all raising us between the three of them. It’s cool.” He grinned and leaned back on the arm of the couch.

    Keith frowned. “Three kids?” he asked with a small cock in his head.

    Lance looked back to him, a little tilt to his mouth. “Yeah? Me, Allura, and Jamie.”

    “Oh,” Keith mouthed. “I didn’t know any of the others were besides you.”

    Lance grinned. “Jamie came out as gay a few years back - I think it was in 2014? Yeah, because he was fifteen. Allura’s known she’s ace for like forever and I’m pansexual.”

    “Huh,” Keith muttered. “I didn’t know that.” He leaned over to the coffee table to dip his brush again.

    “Yep.” Lance sighed and stretched his arms over his head. He gave a heaving yawn and bowed his back until it popped. “So really,” his voice sounded muddled momentarily before he melted back against the couch again, “you don’t have to worry about anything. If anything, _I_ have to worry. Fuckin’ Allura gonna try to drag my sweet ass as much as possible while you’re there. Mom and Mom are just going to aid in it.” He rolled his eyes in a huge dramatic movement, turning his head with it as well. “And Jamie’s just going to drink it all up. And then Dad’s probably going to bust in last minute with the worst fucking stories I have ever had apart in.”

    “I bet there’s been a few,” Keith teased. A shiver racked its way down Lance’s spine and Keith laughed at the horrified face he made.

    “Don’t get him started,” Lance warned. “For my sake. _Please_.”

    Keith laughed at him again but then looked back to his painting. It was so close almost done, which was a relief. It was nice to have finished it.

    “I’ll think about it,” Keith said. “No promises.”

    Lance groaned. “Ugh! Keith, darling, how could you do me like this?” he asked, but his words were muffled as he threw an arm over his face.

    “You shouldn’t have brought it up,” Keith advised. He carefully put his canvas on the coffee table, set on taking a break for a few minutes.

    Lance clicked his tongue and tipped his head back as if to pray to the ceiling. “Allura told me the same thing,” he mentioned offhandedly. He whispered a little curse through his teeth and made a sound akin to a whine, properly sounding his thoughts about he had quite possibly just triggered his own demise.

    Keith laughed into the inner part of his wrist. “Maybe you should think before you speak then, genius.”

    Lance kicked him, then. It was more of a knock to his knee with the heel of Lance’s foot, but Keith counted it as a kick and repaid it with such in much the same manner. One kick turned into two, two into four and soon enough Keith was launching himself into Lance’s space as they wrestled, giggling like maddened school girls as they went along, wrestling on the too small space of Keith’s couch.

    It ended with Lance falling to the floor in between the coffee table and the couch with a loud exclamation and wide eyes. When he hit the floor he broke out into a laugh, which triggered Keith into one as well, loud and long until both of them were panting for breath.

    Keith flopped back onto the couch, his right arm flung out to hang off of the cushions, hovering over Lance as it did so. He fought down the rest of his giggles that hiccuped through his system, jostling him from his spot. There was a hand that came up and touched his dangling hand. Keith rolled his head to the side to find Lance sliding their fingers together in a loose grip. The little gesture brought a smile to Keith’s mouth and he looked back to the ceiling, giving a light squeeze to Lance’s hand.

    “What song is this?” Lance asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

    Keith pursed his lips in thought for a second, thinking. “Warrior, I think,” he answered. “Look on the fucking TV, man.”

    “Can’t see it; the table is in the way of my eyes.”

    Keith gave a groan like his response pained him. “Then get up,” he said, pulling their hands up the littlest bit.

    “Don’t want to,” Lance mumbled lightly. It sounded like he was going to fall asleep.

    Keith sat up, taking Lance’s hand with him as he swung his legs over the side of the couch, tucking them to the side so he wouldn’t hit his soulmate. He snatched at the TV remote and woke the screen up from its temporary sleep. “Yup,” he said, popping the end sound. “Warrior, just like I said.”

    “Never said it wasn’t, babe,” Lance muttered from under the right arm thrown over his face. “Just said I didn’t want to get up.”

    Keith snorted and tugged on Lance’s hand again. “C’mon, we can watch a movie or something.”

    “Ugh, _fffiiiinnnnneee_ ,” Lance groaned like it pained him. Keith pulled his hand from Lance’s so he could thump his soulmate on the forehead. Lance sent him a withering look, but pulled himself back up on the couch in the end. He plopped down in the middle of the couch, boxing Keith in by the arm of the couch. Keith pointed the remote to the television and navigated to Netflix, humming disinterestedly as he began scrolling through the movies available. “What are you going to put on?” Lance asked after a minute of endless browsing.

    “I don’t know,” Keith shrugged a shoulder, looking intently at the screen, like a desireable movie would pop up suddenly and he needed to be on the lookout.

    “What do you usually watch?”

    What _did_ he usually watch? God, that was like asking a person what they like to do for fun. The second you ask a question like that, you forget every detail of your life that makes you an interesting person. He hesitated for a second, because the only show he could think of was of course, the most embarrassing to say aloud in front of his soulmate.

    “There’s Altea, I guess,” he muttered quietly.

    Lance’s entire face brightened. “Oh really? Who’s your favorite character? Me, right?”

    “Absolutely not,” Keith scoffed. _He absolutely was._ You could give Keith a random line from the show and he could name the context and the character Lance’s character Lionel was addressing. But of course, Keith had to keep face. “It’s Levi.” Shiro’s character. It wasn’t too much of a stretch. He was Keith’s second favorite. It wasn’t hard to latch onto the character and cling onto him as your favorite.

    Lance spluttered indignantly. “ _What_ , are you _kidding me!?_ ” He flopped onto the empty cushion beside him dramatically. “Shiro has taken all of my fans from me. Even my soulmate!” he gestured to Keith with his right hand.

    “That must be embarrassing for you,” Keith noted, his voice deadpan. The sight of Lance’s despair was amusing. Keith almost laughed. He stifled it for a moment however, so he could worm his phone out of his pocket so he could snap a picture of Lance. It was funny and clear quality, so Keith made a post but refrained from actually posting it just yet. He knocked Lance with his foot and showed him the picture. Lance groaned and rolled his eyes.

    “How dare you use my despair for publicity,” he moaned and rolled his head. “But go ahead! Post it, you _cretin_!”

    Keith sniggered lightly and hit post with his thumb.

    His Instagram post, with the caption “ _I think he’s broken...?”_ counted as good publicity, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't you just love how I can't stick to my promises? Ever?  
> I don't know when I've become such a deceitful person, but this is who I am, now.  
> Looks like updates are coming as soon as I get the right chapters ready lmao. But like, don't quote me on that, mkay?
> 
> Also lmao, that picture took me forever to make. I used it to fuel my procrastination. I don't regret it all that much, lol
> 
> Lots of love goes out to @Mikiri, my beta and Penny (@littlepennycandy on tumblr), my motivator. I don't think I would have gotten half as much done without her guidance. <33
> 
> If you ever want to send me anything to do with this story, art, headcannons, the place is @yountiredandhungry! Come chat with me!!  
> Please gimme a comment telling me how you felt about this!!


	17. Star Dreamer, Earth Dweller

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 7.5K.  
> 7.5K word value in this chapter  
> Kill me (but lemme finish NaNo, ya feel? I've only got like 5K to go)

         It was Sunday. The day. The dreaded over, worried over day.

    The past week did little to distract him from the ever looming dinner date, as he had nothing to do but work, as Lance was also busy with work and how it seemed like Julie was an ever disappearing figure in their home, due to her new boyfriend. They had talked a bit about the issue of their lease - it was almost expired and Keith was having a hard time believing that they were going to be okay with renewing it. Julie was never home anymore, and when she was, it was to grab a change of clothes or two, a spare mascara tube she’d left behind. Even the worries of possible apartment shopping couldn’t distract Keith from the ever looming anxiety of meeting Lance’s family.

    He woke up Sunday morning with a crick in his neck. He took it as an omen that he was going to have a shit day. From then on, he was preparing himself for what was to come. He didn’t have to show up until seven thirty, so he started worrying too early, and all for nothing.

    It started with his shower. It was too hot and then suddenly, the entire temperature dropped until his teeth were chattering.

    After that it was how his hair started to stick up in too many directions, never lying like he wanted it to.

    And then it was Allura. She couldn’t make it.

MiceWhisperer: so funny thing

MiceWhisperer: I’m stuck in New York

TheTailor: Wait why!?!

MiceWhisperer: my interview got pushed and as it turns out it is now on monday. Therefore I’m staying here through then.

    Keith nearly groaned aloud in frustration. Allura was his only comfortable out in this situation. If Lance was ever drawn away, or shooed away so one of Lance’s relative could get Keith alone, there would be no buffer between him and the family. He would be alone in all his glorious never knowing the right thing to say. He thunked his head against the kitchen table and actually did groan this time. He let out a little curse and let his phone tumble out of his hand to the table top.

    His (hopefully) final problem was what he was going to wear. He stood in front of his dresser at three fifteen, staring into the cloth-ridden abyss and sighed, at a complete loss. What does one wear to dinner with their soulmate’s family? Fuck, he didn’t know!

_ Maaaan _ , he was going to need help with this.

    That’s how he ended up sending a quick text, which he barely looked at, straight to Caroline. From there it was waiting until she got there. He played with a little app on his phone until she came knocking at the door, prompting him to get up and unlock it.

    As soon as he did, he had half a mind to shove it back closed in Caroline’s face.

    She scowled, putting her weight to one foot, cocking her hip out to the side. She took a breath and half-rolled her eyes. “So I know that you have less communication skills than a bagel, but honestly brother what the fuck does this even mean?” She shoved her phone into Keith’s face so quickly that he had to lean back in his surprise, eyes wide as they looked at his sister’s phone screen displaying his hurried, panicked text he had sent. He took her wrist and tugged her to his bedroom. He looked around the walls in what looked like utter defeat before he settled his stare on his opened dresser drawers.

     “He asked me to meet his family!” Keith finally revealed as sat heavily down his bed, huffing at the clothes spilling out the tops of his dresser drawers. “It sounds lame but I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do about it.”

    Caroline frowned a little, propping her shoulder against his doorframe and crossing her arms, tucking her phone under her arm. “Are you gonna go? Isn’t that what soulmates do?”

    “That’s what  _ boyfriends _ do, Cara. Boyfriends. I am  _ not _ his boyfriend.” He groaned, dragging his hand over his face slowly.

    “Nervousness doesn’t suit you, bro,” she told him, a smirk in her voice. She came into the room and perched herself on the end of his desk chair. She sat there for all of three seconds before she launched herself up and across the room to Keith’s dresser. He watched her from between his fingers, curious.

    “What’re you doing?” he asked as he pried open his second drawer.

    “Picking out an outfit for you.” She picked up an odd salmon shaded tee before shoving it back in the drawer, sneering at it. “No,” she whispered to it. “Just no.” Keith didn’t find it in him to shout back, even though that was one of his favorite shirts.

    “I can dress myself,” he protested as she finally drew out a navy button down, patterned and accented in soft whites and grays towards him. He caught it easily and held it in his fist, dangling over the side of the bed. “Besides, I might not even be going.”

    Caroline snorted. “Yeah, you will.” Keith raised his eyebrows and she turned to him, a pair of black skinny jeans in her hands. “Listen, Keith,” she sighed, crossing her arms. “Friends can meet friend’s families.” Her tone was matter of fact and her face serious. “But  _ friends _ don’t make big deals about it, asking their sisters what to wear to said event.” Her face softened just a little, her lips quirking up. “That’s what crushes and boyfriends do. Since you’re not the latter…” She trailed off, a full smirk stretching across her mouth. “Do you have a crush on him?”

    Keith gasped, his face reddening quickly. He chucked his shirt towards her, but it unfurled even farther and fell flat in front of Caroline’s feet. What a disappointment. “Fuck you, Cara!” he cried. His voice didn’t crack, but she was looking at him like it had on seven different levels. She sputtered a laugh and scooped up his shirt.

    “I’ma leave that to Lance,” she teased. “Cause you  _ liiiikkee _ him!!”

    Keith made a furious noise, flopping backwards on his bed. The air current from his movement reminded him of his hot, flushed face. He made an angered noise to the ceiling and exhaled in a huff. “You don’t know  _ anything _ ,” he muttered.

    “Maybe not, but I know you’ve got some serious goo goo eyes when it comes to him, bro. Seriously.” She tossed his shirt and pants to him. They hit their mark, landing on his stomach.

    “I do not,” he protested, sitting up and letting the clothes fall to his lap. “We’re friends.”

    She shrugged. “Then it shouldn’t matter if you show up in sweat pants, right?” Keith looked at her and then shrugged himself. “Well, I’m right. Let me tell you, if one of my friends was going to dinner with  _ me _ to meet  _ you guys _ , none of y’all would care if they showed up in sweat pants as long as they weren’t doing me dirty or being fake or something. So.” She took a breath, squaring her shoulders. “Are you doing Lance dirty - taking advantage of him?”

    Keith snorted, shook his head. “If anything it’s the opposite,” he laughed dryly, remembering that free coffee Dave gave him that one day Lance came to pick Keith up from work.

    “Okay, well are you fake?” Keith’s sister asked, tilting her head as if demanding an honest answer.

    Keith squared her with a look. “No.”

    She smiled at him, like she just gave him the answer to his dilemma. “Then there you have it, dummy. You’ve got nothing to fear. You’re not fake and you’re not taking advantage of their son and his fame then literally have nothing to fear. ‘Cause you’re perfect.”

    “If I could get that in writing, that’d be great.”

    She laughed, bending a little in the middle. “Fat chance brother. Enjoy that. Treasure it. It’s never gonna be said again.” She blew him a raspberry as he stood up, clothes in hand. “Now go get dressed. You’ve got to go impress your friend’s family.”

    “I thought I didn’t need to impress them?” Keith said. He tossed the clothes onto his mattress and had his shirt half off when his sister had spoken. He shrugged it back so he could look at her, eyebrow cocked.

    “Pff, I didn’t say that. Of course you do! You just don’t have to worry about it because you’ll do it anyway.”

    He rolled his eyes, muttering “Whatever.”

    “No, I’m serious! And let me tell you, if there’s ever a lull in the conversation or like, you think you pissed them off or offended them just bring up your art. Parents always swoon over that stuff. They ask to see it, what kinda stuff you use - your  _ muse _ . You know. That stuff. And it’s a good direction to go in because it’s safe. Well, I mean… unless Lance’s parents are homophobic or something. And if so, honestly you should just walk straight outta there because there’s nothing good coming from that.”

    Keith rolled his eyes and continued undressing. “They’re not homophobic,” he told her. “Lance told me that his mom and dad were bi while his other mom,  Sabrina was pansexual. Besides, Allura’s ace. Lance is pan. I think Lance also said that his brother was gay, too? I don’t know. Anyway, apparently they’re all super cool.”

    Caroline nodded her approval. Keith retrieved a plain white tee and slipped it on before he could shrug on his button down. He left it unbuttoned so he could pull on his pants. “That’s good,” Caroline said. “What every parent should be.”

    “Yeah.” Keith sat back on his bed and began to do up his buttons. He paused after he had done up his collar. Caroline looked over to him, looking slightly concerned. He took a breath. “This is going to be weird.”

    “Nah.” Caroline shook her head. “It’ll be great.”

         Keith was still deciding if it was great or not.

    Keith took an Uber to Lance’s a little early, expecting the family to be possibly out to get dinner groceries or hell, even taking Minnie out to run off excess energy. He figured that if he was there fifteen minutes early then  _ maybe _ there would be a split in the family where he wouldn’t have to meet everyone at once.

Boy was he fucking  _ wrong _ .

    He arrived, carting his ice cream as Lance had told him to bring (he had gotten two coconut milk and three regulars) in their plastic sacks as he trudged up the stairs to Lance’s sixth floor apartment. Why an eight floor apartment building didn’t have a fucking elevator was beyond him. He was slightly winded when he got up to the correct door number. The plastic sacks were biting into his cramping fingers. He switched both sacks to one hand so he could knock at the door. His fingers hurt as he flexed them, locking up and protesting as he tried to open them again.

    After a moment filled with exasperation and unmasked winces, Keith was able to knock on the door. He was slightly miffed, his shoes hurting his feet from the trek and he was regretting agreeing to bring something so heavy and uncomfortably cold against his thighs.

    Behind the door was a scuffling and a shouting. The squeals from a little girl followed by the door knob twisting and the door getting yanked back.

    What he was met with was the wide, open face of a good looking boy (who looked nearly the same as Lance with only the exception of his nose was a little bigger and his eyes were a very warm brown instead of Lance’s blue) holding a squirming little girl trying to get out of his grip.

    “I wanna  _ sEE! JAMIE LEGGO A ME! _ MOOOOOOOM!” The little girl squirmed, pawed at the boy, Jamie’s face and screamed for her mother.

    “Quit it! Minnie, I swear to God!” the boy spat back, trying to wiggle her further back into the apartment.

    The little girl still trying to get away, had wild, curly hair that bounced everywhere as she moved. She puffed out her dark cheeks in anger and frustration as she tried to free herself from her captor. Finally, her deep brown eyes landed on Keith and suddenly there was a flicker of hope swirling around with frustration. She flung a hand out, demanding help. “Keif! Help me! Tell ‘em ta let go!”

    Keith was frozen to his spot, eyes wide and  _ incredibly _ unsure as for what to do. “Um…” he muttered, grasping for an inkling of insight to the situation.

    He didn’t get to regain his thoughts, as Jamie began speaking again. “Minnie you can’t just open doors for people.” He sat her down on the ground and turned her to focus on him. His mouth held disappointment and it had Minnie deflating a bit. “It’s not cool, alright?”

    She pursed her lips out in a pout and sighed. “ _ Fiiinnne _ ,” she sighed. Where had Keith heard that before? It seemed that Minnie took after Lance, at least a little bit. “But I want to meet him.” She indicated Keith with a wild sweep of her hand.

    “But what if he’s an ax murderer?” Jamie asked, eyes suddenly wide and cautious. “What is Lance caught a  _ really _ good one who wears people skins for coats?”

    Minnie gasped, horror coming to her face, as well as Keith’s. He opened his mouth to defend himself, but Minnie was already running down the entryway screaming again.

    “MMOOOOOOOMM LANCE’S SOULMATE IS A MURDER AND HE’S GONNA USE OUR SKINS-”

    “Hooooooly shit,” Keith breathed, looking down the entryway with wide eyes. He looked at Jamie who was smirking proudly at what he had just accomplished. “What the fuck, man. I came over to have a good time and I’m honestly feeling so attacked right now.”

    Jamie laughed. It was loud and booming and there may have been a snort in there, but it only fueled Keith’s confusion more. “Sorry dude. I had to. Her face was so-!” He was cut off by a frantic call of his name and the thudding steps coming quickly down the hall. Jamie’s eyes widened as he heard Lance calling his name, saying a curse like it were a prayer before his brother turned the corner and he was suddenly in a headlock.

    It was from there that Keith could see Jamie’s Soul Counter. It was just under his chin, tracing up his jawline and ending at his temple. From what Keith could see (and from the very quick calculations in his head) he saw that the kid barely had a few months until he met his soulmate. Of course, that meant nothing in this moment as Lance held his little brother captive.

    “I swear to God!” Lance exclaimed. “One night without your shit is all I wanted!”

    “Hey, hey, hey!” Jamie yelled, throwing his hands up to grip at Lance’s arms. “Let go! I didn’t do anything!”

    Lance called bullshit and looked up. The second he saw Keith still standing in the doorway, white plastic bags still clutched in his hands, his eyes widened and he let his brother loose. He straightened up and gave Keith a smile like his brother wasn’t moaning about his hurt neck two feet away, rubbing carefully at the hurt area, cursing Lance out under his breath.

    “Keith! Glad you could make it!” He grinned, completely ignoring Jamie behind him except for the little “Sorry about him-,” he jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “He’s an asshole.”

    “ _ You’re _ an asshole!” Jamie yelled in return, earning a smack in the back of the head from Lance, who muttered something quietly to him in Spanish. Jamie rolled his eyes and groaned before heading down the hallway.

    “What’d you say to him?” Keith asked as he shifted his grip on the bags and came further into the entryway.

    “I told him that mom would probably kill him if she heard him using that kind of language.” He shrugged. “And dad needed help with the food.” He paused for a second and looked Keith over before he caught sight of the ice creams. “Shit, here, let me take that.” Keith transferred the bags to Lance’s hands and soon his soulmate was leading him out of the entryway. “Welcome to my home, soulmate,” he said out of the corner of his mouth to Keith, grinning lopsidedly.

    It was impressive to say the least. It was wide open with the living room taking up most of the space and blending into the kitchen, only separated by a bar which held a stove and small sink to rival the one on the opposite counter. To the very left was a small hallway that rounded off out of sight. Beside that was the kitchen. Pretty appliances, beautiful cabinets and a large fridge on one wall with glass encasing. There was a slider under it that served as the freezer, where Lance ended up storing the ice cream.

    Just to the right of the kitchen, tucked into a little corner was a long dining table with a pretty glass set atop it. It looked more to show than it did functional, but Keith didn’t mention that, only looking out of the far wall where the wall was made almost completely out of glass with doors leading out to a gorgeous balcony that overlooked the skyline in a beautiful view.

    Keith didn’t get a chance to take in the rest of his soulmate’s apartment as his attention was drawn to just what exactly was happening  _ in _ said apartment.

    First of all: it was a  _ mess _ . There was a board game sitting atop the coffee table in between a long couch and a love seat. It had been tossed aside and scattered, strewn all over the floor and trailing almost all the way to the kitchen, marking the way with colorful pieces of money. There were three at work in the kitchen, prepping and cooking like a frantic, very well oiled machine. They worked very well together.

    So with the sizzle coming from a pan in the kitchen and the chatter being heard from there, there was also the sound on Minnie. She was still wailing (Keith still wasn’t sure what he had done to merit this) but she was now doing so into one of her mother’s lap.

    The mother was Sabrina. She was a lovely woman with a head full of black curly hair and a soft, caring face. Her expression at the moment was more annoyed than anything as she glanced to her younger son helping his father and mother in the kitchen as she sat out consoling Minnie. Lance grabbed Keith’s hand, threading his fingers in with his soulmate so he could pull Keith forward into his home.

    Lance’s dad’s voice was, well, very loud. He hooted an exclamation as soon as he looked up and saw Keith. “Hey!” he said. He made a quick movement of drying off his hands with a dishtowel so he could meet them in the middle, halfway to the bar. “Eugene McClain. Nice to meet you.” He grinned as Keith shook his hand firmly.

    “Likewise. I’m Keith Kogane.”

    “Yeah; come in, come in! We got dinner on the stove.” He turned and led the way in.

    “Do you want a drink?” Lance asked him as they continued in.

     “No thanks,” Keith mumbled, looking around the living room again. “What the fuck happened in here?” he asked out of the side of his mouth.

    Lance sniggered. “Minnie got excited when she lost. Cleared the table like Uncle Louis’ political opinions at Thanksgiving.” He gave Keith a sideways smile and took him to the kitchen. “Also, you’d better watch your mouth around the kids. Mom popped me on the side of the head earlier for dropping the F-bomb in front of Jamie - like he doesn’t already curse.” He gave a little eye roll.

    “Maybe he’s just got a better filter than you do,” Keith poked.

    Lance opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off by his mother, a pretty Latina woman, coming around the island, a huge smile on her face. Lance looked exactly like her, with light brown hair cut in a short cut and Lance’s wide, bright smile. The only difference was her eyes. Where Lance’s were a deep, pretty blue, hers were a beautiful brown with crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes.

    “Keith!” she bellowed, just as loud as her husband. “I’m Mira. We’ve heard so much about you; Lance talks about you all the time.” She didn’t wait before she pulled Keith into a hug, causing Lance to let go of Keith’s hand so he could awkwardly hug Lance’s mother back. When she pulled back, Keith hit Lance with a devilish smirk.

    “Talk about me much?” he asked teasingly.

    Lance scoffed and looked aside. “Nope, not at all.” He shook his head like he was so sure of himself. “This family is full of lying snakes. You shouldn’t believe anything  _ any _ of them say, Keith. Take my advice, man.”

    “But everything we say is true! Just like how you had to have your ass wiped for you until you were five!” Jamie called from the bar, a wicked smirk on his face. He quickly dropped his head down and continued on slicing at the loaf of French bread, as he was originally directed to.

    Minnie perked up from her mother’s arms, looking scandalized. “Mamá!” she screamed. “Jamie said a bad word!” She pointed at him in a huge motion, turning her back to her mother as she did so. The outburst caught Keith by surprise. He looked over to the little girl and found himself looking instead into the eyes of her mother. They were large and round and as brown as her wife’s. She looked him up and down before she stood up. Keith vaguely heard Jamie getting chewed out for his language, but he was too busy looking at the insanely tall woman coming towards him.

    She had a beautiful smile as she came near and offered her hand to him. He took it and shook it firmly.

    “It’s very nice to meet you,” she said warmly. The off-tone voice took Keith by surprise, but he shook it off with a polite nod and a cautious smile. She was easily a head taller than him, making him have to look up to her slightly. She was sort of intimidating.

    “You too,” he said. “I’m Keith.”

    “And I am Sabrina.” She made to tuck a strand of black hair behind her ear, revealing a hearing aid in her ear. “It’s so good to finally meet you. We’ve heard plenty of stories about you.” She shot a sly grin and Lance and he blanched. He splayed open his hand and tapped his thumb to his chin in a wild motion, his face open and desperate for her to just  _ stop talking _ . She laughed and motioned with her hands in the universal “Okay, okay, chill” movement. “Lance says you paint.”

    Keith nodded vigorously. “Yeah! I’m going to school at Gal Garrison, uptown,” he said.

    Sabrina smiled, checking a glance at Lance again. “Lance had told us that you’re a brilliant artist.” Keith blinked thrice and flushed a little. He turned his head the small bit to look at Lance, a small smirk on his face.

    “Oh does he,” he said, a teasing edge to the smile he wore. “Big old hot shot movie star talks about a little painter nobody like me? Wow, I’m flattered!”

    Lance rolled his eyes. “Oh please, ‘Mr. Nobody’-” He made air quotes with his fingers. “-don’t give me that  _ flattered _ , stuff! You’ve got all of my friends wrapped around your little finger! I’m probably next!”

    Keith heard Jamie snort. “Oh yeah, like you aren’t already,” he sniggered.

    Lance flipped around on his heel and looked his brother straight in the eyes. “You wanna go outside? I can take you outside. We will have  _ words _ !”

    Minnie jumped up from the couch, pumping her fist in the air. “That means that Lionel is going to beat up James!” she called out, much too excited for the event she just described.

    “Hey, nobody’s beating up anybody!” Eugene interjected, popping a dish towel in the air. He frowned. “Dinner’s ready, get to the table.”

    Dinner was quick, contrary to every expectation Keith had leading up to it. He thought it was going to be a really tense interrogation type of thing, where the parents would gril him on his very being. It wasn’t. There was pleasant conversation, polite little questions about his work, how school was going for him and wondering about how in the hell he tolerated Lance. The last ones were obvious nudges to the young man sitting to Keith’s left. He would roll his eyes dramatically and combat the questions each time with something similar to “Ex _ cuse me _ , I am a  _ gem _ !” To this, Minnie’s eyes lit up and Keith could barely handle the adorable excitement in her face.

    “You mean like Garnet and Pearl?!” she asked, launching up to sit on her knees in her chair, fork still clutched tightly in her small fist as she leaned halfway across the table to her older brother.

    Lance nodded seriously. He leaned towards her and cupped his hands over his mouth in a movement that did nothing to shield the stage whisper he gave her. “ _ Just _ like Pearl and Garnet. I’m a crystal gem undercover, but you can’t tell anybody that.”

    “Oh my gosh!” Minnie gushed, falling back into her seat, a contemplative look on her face, flailing her fork so that the green bean speared on it fell into her hair.

    “Oh c’mon,” Jamie mumbled, picking the bean out of her curls so he could discard it on the edge of his plate.

    “Lionel, I can’t believe you’re a crystal gem!” Minnie burst, waving her hands in the air in a huge movement.

    Lance grinned happily and motioned for his little sister to sit in her chair correctly.

    After dinner the table was cleared and the dishes were loaded into the dishwasher. After that, Lance’s parents stepped out to the wide balcony for a little glass of wine. Keith and Lance made to follow them, but Minnie snagged the end of Keith’s shirt and asked (in the politest way he had ever seen a six year old talk) if he would play a game of Jenga with her and Jamie.

    Keith couldn’t find it in him to refuse, so he went along with it and Lance followed closely behind, clocking out his his moms and dad.

    And so he found himself sitting on the couch, sandwiched between Jamie and Lance in front of the coffee table while Minnie was across from them, constantly shifting from sitting to standing to slouching with her chin on the table as they played a few games. A bag of Twizzlers had been filched from Lance’s cupboard and was now lying open on the table, half gone and Keith had taken to cradling a mug of tea Lance had made him just after dinner in between his turns.

    It was as Keith was reaching forward for his first piece of candy that Minnie gasped and her hand shot out so she could point at the little string of rainbow colored beads.

    “Is that a friendship bracelet?” she asked energetically.

    Keith glanced at his bracelet and then to the little girl. “Yeah, your brother made it for me.” He jerked his head to Lance and Minnie grinned. He missed the way Jamie clicked his tongue and sent his brother a little look.

    As did Minnie. “Look! Lance made me one, too!” she shuffled around the table on her knees and presented her little wrist. Sure enough, there were several bracelets there, all different colors. The one she was indicating was a string of thick plastic beads colored violet and green. There was a special kind of bead in the middle, a large metal one in the shape of a dragonfly.

    “It’s pretty,” Keith told her. He didn’t miss the little exclamation from Lance in what Keith figured was pride.

    “I made one for Allura,” Minnie went on, her own pride coloring her words as she jammed a thumb into her chest. “It’s all pink and it’s got all these shiny, sparkly beads on it! I had to have mom tie it up so Allura could wear it, but other than that I did it all by myself!”

    Keith smiled at her. “I’m sure it’s very pretty.”

    Minnie bobbed her head. “It is!” he assured him. “Allura told me so and that she liked it. She’s my sister.” She didn’t stop to look at Keith’s little nod, telling her that he knew, because she was still looking down at her bracelets. She poked her finger at them, rotating the beads on the elastic before she looked back up at Keith, her eyes squinted. “Keith do you have any little brothers or sisters?” Minnie asked suddenly asked, gaze serious like this was the most important question he was ever going to answer.

    Keith blinked a couple of times before he smiled and found himself nodding. “Yes. I have a little sister Caroline. She’s a lot older than you, though.”

    Minnie nodded, processing the information. “So you are the oldest of your siblings?”

    Keith reached across his body to the little coffee table for his mug of tea. “No. I have an older brother. His name is Kevin.”

    Minnie looked up from her Twizzler and gasped. “So you’re the youngest brother!?” she cried, standing up wildly.

    Keith paused the mug at his lips. “Uh, yeah?” He shrugged his shoulder at the meaningless information and took a drink of his tea.

    Minnie threw her Twizzler across the table so that it landed in the package again. “Oh my gosh! Keith!” She twisted around the table and took his free hand. He startled, spilling a bit of tea on himself before he could put his mug back on the table. “We are both youngests! You’re a youngest boy and I’m a youngest girl!” She grinned at him and then over to Lance on the next cushion over. “Lionel, can I have your soulmate? We’re both youngest!”

    Lance looked up from his endeavor to capture a Twizzler for himself, slightly confused. “Uh… no. He’s  _ my _ soulmate. Go get your own partner in crime.”

    Minnie sighed and tried to lace her tiny fingers in with Keith’s much larger ones. She sighed dramatically and flopped down against the cushion to Keith’s right, never letting go of his hand. “But  _ Lance _ . I love him!” she exclaimed with her free hand over her eyes.

    Lance in turn, snorted a laugh. “Too-flippin’-bad, kid. He’s  _ mine _ and I love him and someday we’re going to get married and have six children!”

    Keith scoffed at that, recognizing Lance’s  _ hypothetical whining _ voice. “Try two.  _ Maybe _ three. Six is fuc-” he stopped himself short, queueing a little laugh from Jamie and a knock of knuckles against his knee from Lance. “-uh. Crazy. Stupid crazy.” Lance made a little sound like a laugh just before there was a great crashing sound as Jamie left the tower crumbling onto the table top with a terrible battle cry of defeat. The moment between the two of them was over as the table was erupted in like-cries and sudden loud cried of teasings from the family members to Jamie.

    Minnie leaped over Lance and Keith’s legs so she could grab at Jamie’s cheeks and yell in his face, apparently personally offended at a loss that was not even her own.

    Keith, caught up in the excitement was grinning, leaning into Lance’s side as his soulmate whooped in victory, hitting his little brother playfully on the shoulder.

    The next game calmed down considerably. Jamie, as he had knocked down the last game, was tasked to rebuild the tower and Minnie went first this time, sliding a block out of the bottom of the tower and tapped it against her chin. She looked over Lance and Keith and how the latter was leaning into Lance’s side as Lance’s arm was slung comfortable over Keith’s shoulders.

    Minnie plunked the block on the very top of the tower and drew in a breath. “Lionel,” she started out, her voice as innocent as her smile was devious.

    “Have you  _ completely  _ forgotten my name?” Lance asked flippantly, tearing off the end of his Twizzler like a savage.

    Minnie ignored him, waving her hand and went back to the matter she was thinking about before. “Are you and Keith gonna marry each other?” Lance jolted, jarring Keith and Keith stiffened a little, ready to defend himself against the little girl, but Lance got to her first.

    “Minnie!” he cried. “I  _ told you _ that we’re not dating!”

    Minnie rolled her eyes. “But you love each other! And you already said that you were gonna!”

    “That was a joke!” Lance explained, perhaps a little too loud and with hands that swept too wide.

    Minnie clearly deflated. She dropped to sit with her legs crossed and she leaned back to support herself on her arms. “Why  _ don’t _ you get married?”

    “Because sometimes people love each other in different ways and don’t want to get married,” Keith told her, leaning up and away from Lance a bit as he spoke to the girl.

    “Yes! That! But like, also, Keith might not want to marry me because he doesn’t want you little kids for in laws.” Lance shot a look to Jamie, who shrugged a shoulder and went after a Twizzler.

    “I mean, sure. But then again, he just might not like guys,” Jamie muttered. “You in particular, my guy.”

    “Why I outta,” Lance growled, pushing up one of his sleeves up from his elbow to his wrist.

    “Wait!” Minnie yelled, drawing a curious little string of glances from the trio’s parents from the balcony. The little girl urged Keith closer, eyes wide as she crooked her finger. After hesitating for a moment, Keith leaned in and let Minnie grab at his head and position it so his ear was to her mouth.

    “You know it’s okay for boys to like boys, right?” she asked in a stage-whisper. “You can like both boys and girls, if you want!” She pulled back and gave him a solemn look of one who had perhaps just given a young one the wisest piece of advice they would ever receive. 

    He paused a second in surprise. He glanced across the little table and found Jamie’s eyes on him, along with Lance’s from beside him. He looked back to Minnie and gave a small half smile. “Yeah, of course I know,” he assured her. “I like both boys and girls a lot.” Minnie grinned at him and nodded solemnly before taking up another Twizzler and tearing the end off with her teeth.

    She went back the the game, carefully trying to remove a wooden block, as it was her turn. She didn’t seemed perturbed by Lance spluttering to Keith’s right.

    “Wait, you’re  _ bi _ ?!” Lance demanded. Keith gave him a look and shrugged his shoulder slowly in a deliberate movement.

    “Yes?” He cocked his eyebrow and leaned forward to take his turn. He got a side piece out without even looking. “Did you not know?”

    Lance flailed an arm off to the side, smacking straight into Jamie’s face as the younger boy leaned over, ambitious fingers wiggling to the Twizzler package. The boy cut a curse off as soon as it came and glared at his older brother. “Dude!” he cried.

    “You never told me,” Lance said, his voice a little loud.

    “You never asked?” Keith shrugged and took a red candy.

    Lance shook his head to himself. “You can’t meet Pidge now,” he said, sighing heavily.

    Keith’s eyebrows furrowed a little bit and he frowned in confusion. “Why not?”

    There was a deep breath and Lance turned to him fully. “Because she’s going to try to steal you away from me now! She’s already told me that she’s going to try!”

    Keith snorted. “Honestly, she has no competition,” he said.

    Lance gaped. “ _ Keith _ , I thought we were good! We were bonding!”

    Keith laughed, and Jamie did right along with him until he was left to bend over, holding at his stomach as Lance pouted beside him and Minnie whined to get back in the game.

    Yeah, this wasn’t so bad.

          “So…” Lance trailed off, shuffling on his feet and fiddling with the end of his long, thin sleeve. The evening was done. It had mellowed out when Minnie had fallen asleep with her cheek pressed into a couch cushion and with Jamie wondering aloud about how he could sneak a glass of wine.

    It was nearing midnight, now. Keith decided to get out of the McClain-Harris-Vasquez family’s collective hair. He said so and was given what was perhaps the warmest farewell he had ever gotten including warm words from Lance’s parents and a promise from Jamie that they would meet again soon.

    Lance walked Keith outside as the latter called a car (once again, Lance offered to send for one and once again, Keith refused it. Independence, he joked) and here they were, standing on the sidewalk as they awaited the car. The night was warm and the lamps were bright in their yellow bulbs. The light they casted made Lance’s skin glow more than it already was and made his face seem just a little sharper.

    The actor cleared his throat and yanked his sleeve down to cover his wrist. “I know my family is hella weird, but I just hope they didn’t freak you out too much.” He looked up at Keith and smiled a little. It looked like a nervous smile and it made Keith smile, steadier, brighter, just to try and calm the nerves out of Lance’s.

    “Listen,” Keith said, stepping a little closer to his soulmate. The wind picked up and it tousled his loose hair. He should have brought a hair band from home. Keith wrapped his arms around Lance in a warm hug, breathing out a small sigh as he did. Lance was rigid for only a moment before he slowly went to move his arms and hug Keith back with warm, strong arms. Lance hummed and Keith continued. “Your family was great. It was cool to see you with them, all unguarded and shit.”

    Lance’s chin jutted into Keith’s shoulder and Lance made a confused sound. “‘Unguarded’? What, are you planning on taking me out anytime soon?”

    Keith smiled fondly against the fabric of Lance’s tee and looked up to the dark night sky. “I can’t believe that you figured out my master plan,” Keith said, putting fake grief and heavy teasing in his tone.

    Lance gasped and pulled back from their embrace, jaw dropped. “I  _ knew _ it! I knew you were out for me!” He put the back of his hand to his forehead and sniffled dramatically. “What will the  _ children _ think!?”

    Keith raised a critical eyebrow. “Children?” he repeated.

    Lance peeked out the corner of his eye. “Uh. Duh. Our children. The 2.5 kids we’re going to have. How could you forget our children, Keith?  _ Our children _ !” Lance clutched a hand in the front of his shirt and Keith groaned.

    “Who would want to have children with you, when you’re already a child?” Keith shot back, standing firm.

    “Yeah? Well…  _ you’re _ a child!” he shot back, the build up at the start of his sentence was much bigger than the deflating finale.

    Keith snorted. “Good one, Lance. Got me real bad, right here.” He knocked the side of his left fist over his heart cavity. “I’m never gonna recover from that, man. I’m going to die from shame.”

    Lance’s stare was as flat as his eyebrows were perfectly groomed. It may as well have been a horizontal plane. “Don’t patronize me, Keith,” he muttered, a small pout tugging at the corners of his mouth. Keith sniggered and Lance’s pout fully bloomed on his face, jutted out lip and everything. “Quit makin’ fun of me!” he exclaimed. “I don’t fucking deserve this; I’m a nice guy, okay?”

    Keith bent over, clutching at his stomach by how hard he was laughing. Lance made a noise and pulled at his hair, he looked up at the night sky, seemingly talking to the erm, Higher Ups. “Why’d you gimme  _ him _ ?” he demanded. Keith didn’t have the time to sober up at the question and to answer to the pang of regret and anxiety in his chest because Lance went straight on. “First he converts my siblings to his side and now this! God, why?!”

    Keith tried to calm his laughter with deep breaths, but all that did was scatter the giggles until he was stammering through them. “L-Leave God alone, Lance” he called over to him, “he’s too busy to deal with your shit, man.”

    Lance sighed again, loud and long and way too exaggerated as he stood on the sidewalk outside of his apartment building at midnight on a Sunday. Nonetheless, it had Keith smiling. It was all teeth, wide and speaking volumes, just like the pounding in his chest that resonated with that of a war drum.

    “ _ Ugh _ , well, maybe I wouldn’t bother him if you wouldn’t be such a little shit,” he sighed.

    Keith snorted. “Right back atcha, bud.” He straightened. The heavy summer air felt light in Keith’s lungs, now. If he were to trip off of his feet he was sure that he wouldn’t hit the ground, but instead float up into space, walking on air. He’d make his home in the stars, maybe even name one after his soulmate. Nah, he decided; that’d just be too cheesy. Maybe he would just take Lance with him instead and they would be up there, left alone to live as they wished. Hell, they could be space ranger partners (or something as equally ridiculous) and no one would bother them.

    He had half a mind to trip himself over the curb just to test out his theory, live out his vision, when a car pulled up to the sidewalk and his chance was over. The bubble popped and he was left to trip back to the ground, leaving the stars behind as the Uber came up to the curb. He was left to bite back a curse and resist shuffling closer to Lance, to wrap his arms around him again and this time, not let go so early.

    “I’ll see you later,” Keith said to Lance, instead of any of the thoughts that had went through his head in all of two seconds. Lance tossed him a smile and a little nod.

    “Mhm. I’ll call you tomorrow.” He said it as if it were a promise. Keith was going to hold him to it.

    “Okay,” he said in a breath. He swiped his tongue over his bottom lip and went to get into the car.

    The driver was an old man with a thinning head of white hair on the top of his head, scruffy whiskers on his cheeks. The whole car smelled like strong cinnamon candies, one of these he offered to Keith. The ride back to his apartment was easy enough. He answered a few wondering texts from his sister, curious as to how everything went. He told her that it went as well as could be. He didn’t offer up as many details as she was wanting, but he did fill her in on every bit of his interactions with Minnie. He wanted someone to gush and laugh about his experiences with the six year old.

    He held the conversation through getting home, changing into his pajamas and brushing his teeth and finally as he came back into his room, barefoot and eyes droopy. He finished off the conversation with a good night text and Caroline replied in a like manner. After the quick “Good night! Sleep well!! :)” Keith tossed his phone onto his mattress. He stood in the middle of the room with his lips quirked as he looked around the room. He glanced over the full length mirror, his dresser, his bed. He looked at the little patterns on the roof and to the windows and their blackout curtains pulled to the side.

    It was still in the room, another night where it was just him at home. It was quiet and his movement was quick. Just a quick jump on the balls of his feet, rocking to the tips of his toes before rolling back to the solidarity of the heels on his feet.

    As expected, he stayed on the ground. In disappointment, he crossed the room to his bed and slipped into the sheets. He let out a breath into his pillow and shut his eyes, willing himself to relax and to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this chapter!!! It's the longest yet lmao. I'm pretty sure that I say that every chapter.
> 
> Please give me a comment! I love them so much!
> 
> I just highkey broke my keyboard and now I have to copy paste spaces so I'm going cut this note shut and cry my soul away. Pray for me.  
> I'm on tumblr @youngtiredandhungry! Come check me out!!  
> Thanks to my beta @Mikiri! And to @theryanreynoldspamphlet for letting me know what she thought and giving me her imput!!


	18. Little Lionel Man

         Saturday night, during the dinner with his parents, Lance had mentioned to Keith that he wasn’t allowed to meet Katie, under any circumstances. Of course, he was joking. It was that entire conversation and the prospect of Katie stealing Keith away from Lance while he wasn’t exactly even Lance’s to begin with was just very funny.

    It seemed even more so when Katie messaged him the following day as he stood in the men’s locker room at his gym as he was putting his things away so he could hit the floor. He unlocked his phone, expecting some random picture from Lance until he saw the sender of the message.

ActualSkyPidgeon: I’ve heard the news man, congrats

Keith2urHeart: news?

ActualSkyPidgeon: yeah how you won over the family and got the blessings for lance’s hand

ActualSkyPidgeon: imma little disappointed that he got to you before I did but i will ride on

Keith2urHeart: wtf there was no blessings given

ActualSkyPidgeon: so you are in fact not next in line for the hand of lance harrismcclainvasquez

Keith2urHeart: no?

ActualSkyPidgeon: this pleases me.

    He snickered under his breath and plopped his phone down into his bag and shoved it in his locker before he headed out to the line of treadmills.

    He started one and eased up to a fast paced run. Since he met Lance, Keith had found that his workout schedule had been minced. He’d only been going on the off day, skipping more days recently than he had in a long time.

    After about an hour or so, Keith was finished with his work on the gym floor, he went back to the locker room, sweat drying on his body and a pleasant ache in his body. After a very quick shower he was left to dress, taking his bag from the locker again. There was another text from Pidge, but he got dressed before he opened it.

ActualSkyPidgeon: Alright-y my guy ive got business and i need an artist’s opinion.

    Keith’s eyebrows furrowed.

Keith2urHeart: what are you doing?

ActualSkyPidgeon: I cant tell you you just gotta come and help me

Keith2urHeart: am I going to die in this endeavor?

ActualSkyPidgeon: no i promise

ActualSkyPidgeon: how can i keep goading lance with yu if ur dead??????

Keith2urHeart: so this is just a plan to goad Lance with me?

ActualSkyPidgeon: Maybe

ActualSkyPidgeon: but also I have a plan to exact revenge on a certain someone and I need help doing so

Keith2urHeart: fucking with lance, revenge plots? Well just fucking marry me katie

ActualSkyPidgeon: :D

Keith2urHeart: ... 

Keith2urHeart: ok uv convinced me where are we going

ActualSkyPidgeon: I’ll text you the deets my dude hold on

    Keith wasn’t all that sure what he expected when he caught sight of the little teen hunched over on the sidewalk in front of Sunshine Thrift. She caught sight of him from under the beanie and hood that basically left the lower part of her face swimming in a picture of darkness. She grinned and tossed the hood off of her head when she saw him and stepped up to the curb he was nearing. As soon as he crossed the street, Katie was taking him, her hands on his shoulders as she peered closely at him.

    “Let me look you over for a second,” she muttered. “I gotta check something.”

    Keith frowned, his brows knitting. He let out a small sound when Katie grabbed his chin and tilted his head to the side so she could inspect his right ear. “Check what?” he asked her.

    She pursed her lips. “I gotta see what Lance sees in you,” she confided. Her hands trailed from his face to his shoulder, progressing to his upper arms. “I’ve got to make sure you’re okay for my old pal, Lancelot.”

    Keith snorted. “What are you going to tell just by staring at me?” he questioned.

    Katie quirked an eyebrow at him. “Not much,” she said slowly, as if still trying to size him up. Her hands squeezed over his upper arm. “But now I know that you work out.” She grinned, feeling the muscle under his arm. “Nice.”

    Keith went to thank her, but she hooked him by the arm and dragged him into the thrift store.

    “Okay,” Katie started out as she hooked her arms in his. She lifted up on her tiptoes periodically so she could see over all the clothes racks and the cards separating them from their neighbors. “We’re here for clothes.”

    Keith lifted an eyebrow “At a thrift store?” he asked skeptically. There was nothing wrong with that, don’t get him wrong. He just figured that Pidge, like Lance and Allura, would be suited to designer bullshit that was too pricy for what they were getting and styles that were very obviously  _ now _ .

    She gave a little laugh. “Yeah, of course. That’s where you go to get the ugliest goddamn sweater known to man, am I right?”

    “I guess so,” Keith said his attention trailing from the actor to a shelf a few feet away, one sitting against the wall, filled with ancient technology. There were a few pieces of furniture in front of it, a set of brown leather chairs and sofa and a tall backed chair that looked older than both Keith and Katie combined, covered in a purple and yellow speckled vinyl. “I don’t usually buy ugly sweaters.”

    Pidge snorted. “Then you, my friend, have never lived.” She brought them along to the back part of the store and Keith spotted them instantly. There was at least an entire rack of coarsely knit sweaters of all colors. It seemed that the creators of them figured that color matching was for suckers because lots of the sweaters were made with colors of yarns that weren’t even on the same spectrum.

    “Maybe I’ve been preserving my life,” Keith mused, plucking at the sleeve of a olive green, red and brown one. “I feel like I’m going to go blind because of these. Holy shit.” he brought one out on its hanger. It looked as if it was crocheted halfway and then the person ran out of yarn, causing them to switch to the only color they had on hand. From a really pretty baby blue to an ugly-ass mustard yellow. From there it was like the person either stopped giving a shit or decided to go for the Ugly Sweater Maker Championship because there were several buttons sewn into the chest, along with several black and yellow pom poms hot glued onto the sleeves.

    “That looks like a contender,” she smirked, taking the sweater’s clothes hook from him so she could swing the thing over her shoulder and carry it around with her.

    Keith followed her as she picked her way through the stock, pulling various sweaters out for a moment before deciding whether or not if it was worthy enough to keep. “What are these for?” he finally dared to ask after Katie threw the fourth sweater over for him to carry.

    She turned to him, her fingers still on the sleeve of another sin to God himself. Her face was dead serious, as well as her voice. “Would you believe that I have a kink for ugly sweaters?” she asked, not breaking eye contact or cracking a smile in the slightest.

    Keith deadpanned, “No.”

   She clicked her fingers. “Nah, you’re right. They're for my brother. His birthday is coming up within like a week.”

    “And you’re getting him… this?” He held the arm load of sweaters up, crinkling his nose in disgust.

    She grinned at him, tapping the side of her nose. She tilted her head and the florescent lights overhead got caught up in her lenses and made them glint menacingly. “Of course,” she cackled, tossing the sweater from the rack to Keith’s arms. “It’s, like a family tradition.” She went on with her witch’s cackle, leading the way back down the aisle. Keith had no choice but to follow, but at as much distance as he could manage. Maybe Lance was right… Keith was getting a distinct ‘evil’ vibe, honestly.

    They went through several aisles before Katie finally broke down and jogged back to the front to get a shopping cart for the both of them. Keith was left by a corner shelf. It was jointed with puzzles on one side, shoes lining the other.

    He readjusted his hold on the pile of clothing, bouncing them in his grip as he waited for minute. Katie was quick about coming back and he let the sweaters drop heavily into the basket.

    “We should go into the novelties,” Katie said, eyes wide and eager. “One time when I came here there was literal gold coins for like a dollar twenty nine. It was fucking insane, man.”

    “Are you sure they were legit?” Keith asked. She rolled her shoulder.

    “Nah, they weren’t. But I tricked Matt into thinking they were when I gave them to him for a Christmas gift two years ago.”

    Keith hummed and followed behind her as she pushed the cart, slouching into the weight as she went. He was left to twist his fingers together behind his back and glance down the aisles as they passed. The novelty section, as it turned out was full of little figurines, varying in sizes in colors. The shelves were dotted with centerpieces and candlestick holders, most chipped and some cracked, but they held a certain vibe, Keith supposed. An old family heirloom or something like that.

    Katie picked through them without a care as they clicked together, humming along to the cheesy music filling the air between them from some radio filtering throughout the building. “Dude, look.” She picked up a shiny frog in a bikini, snorting with laughter as she did.

    “What the fuck?” Keith took one look at the amphibian and he was set to laughing. “Why would anyone have that?”

    Katie put the frog in the purple swimsuit into the upper part of the shopping cart. “I don’t know man, but it’s mine, now.” She caught the little surprised look Keith sent her. “I collect stuff like this,” she told him. “I’ve got a full shelf at home; it’s just full of the ugly-ass figurines I’ve been stringing together since I was eight.” She giggled. “Kid’s gotta have a hobby, right?”

    Keith shrugged in agreement. “Yeah, I get that.” he swung the cart around and stepped up to look at the small trinket boxes to Katie’s right. He picked up a small pink one, with ribbons painted all across the lid when he heard Katie gasp behind him. He turned to her, one hand still on the grip. “What is it?”

    “Horrifying, is what it is,” she sniggered. Her back was still turned to him, but her shoulders were shaking with laughter. She twisted on her heel, a little figure in her hand. “Just…  _ look _ . I can’t believe marketing agreed to this.”

    In her hand was a bobble-headed figure. It reminded Keith of a baseball figure, in little ways, like the position of the figure’s arms and the rod-straight legs connecting at the base. It took a second to register just  _ who _ this figure was supposed to portray, simply because of how horribly off the design was.

    After seeing  _ Lionel _ across the little plate at the base, Keith finally caught the resemblance. The blue eyes (which were more of a teal than anything related to Lance’s eye color) and the stupid little smirk etched onto the cartoon-esque bobble began to come together in an awful likeness of Lance.

    “That’s…” Keith said, hesitant. What could he even say to describe… that?

    Pidge laughed, shoving it into Keith’s hands. “Hold this.” Keith took it from her fingers, still looking at it like he was expecting it to explain its very existence to him. “Lance has to see this. Pose with it for me.” Keith looked between her and the figure with a dubious eyebrow lifted. “Oh come on. Just give him a little kiss or something.”

    “There’s no way in hell I’m kissing something that’s come out of a thrift store, Katie.” He cringed just thinking of all the hands that touched the little Lionel man since it was donated.

    Katie rolled her eyes. “Okay,  _ fine _ . But you still have to pose for me.”

    A little huff from Keith that didn’t make him sound annoyed at all before he held up the figure. A minute later of a disgusted face from Keith as he looked at the figure, clearly in the frame of a picture Katie was insistent of taking, the young woman was still cackling about the entire thing, muttering about how Lance would be thoroughly offended at such a bad likeness of his character. Keith took another glance at the offending figure and put it in the basket of the cart.

    Keith and Katie fell into a little lull. After clicking around for a few minutes, Katie pocketed her phone and continued clicking through the figurines, looking closely over a puppy one before she spoke.

    “So what’s up with you and my man, Keith?” she asked absently, swapping the puppy for a  crouching frog. She checked the price sticker stuck to the bottom of it, letting Keith mull through her question as he pleased.

    Keith on the other hand, didn’t get it. “Your man?” he asked. He had never met Katie’s boyfriend.

    “Yeah, Lance.” She glanced around at him. “Why aren’t you two dating yet? I swear it’s like you're both already married.”

    Keith shrugged and plucked at the hand grip on the cart. “I’ve got issues.” And it was true, he figured. He did have a few problems to sort out before he thought about letting Lance in  _ that _ way. He wasn’t entirely sure why he admitted this delicate fact to Katie, but now it was out there and she seemed to take it in stride. She picked up a softball bat that was sorely out of place on the same shelf as the delicate glass figures.

    “Eh, we’ve all got issues. I’ve got issues, you’ve got issues.  _ Lance _ has issues. We’ve all got issues, man.” She replaced the bat and clapped him on the shoulder. “Now c’mon. Let me take you to lunch.”

* * *

         Keith wasn’t all that surprised when his phone started chiming uncontrollably, later that day. Mainly from the group chat, but with a few mentions from his Instagram app later that day, It started off with the photo Katie got the OK to post, it was linked to Keith’s profile, as well as Lance’s. From there it was Lance’s posted reaction to the picture, an over dramatized face and a pointing finger.  _ “WHAT IS THAT AND HOW DO WE STOP IT FROM EXISTING” _ is what he asked in the little caption box. Katie sent him a message in the group chat.

ActualSkyPidgeon: you’d best believe i bought that as soon as i saw it and you’re never getting hold of it ever

TheTailor: It Needs To Burn

TheTailor: LOOK AT IT IT DOESN’T EVEN LOOK LIKE ME??

ActualSkyPidgeon: what do you mean its a perfect likeness

    Lance didn’t reply after that. Katie voiced her assumptions that it was quite possible that Lance was broken again.

    After a while, when Keith was long at home and separated from Katie, Lance took to messaging Keith privately, asking about whether or not Pidge had really bought the thing or not. When he had confirmed the matter, the subject shifted to if Keith would be willing to help Lance literally break into Katie’s house and steal it for themselves. A call was made to better iron out details.

    “I should like, hire  _ a crew _ ,” Lance ponders aloud. “I’m very influential, you know. And I could totally pay a few people to get it for me.”

    “If you want to be caught up in illicit affairs, go right ahead. But I’m not advising for it.”

    At this, Lance cooed. “Aw,  _ Keith _ . Worried for me?”

    Keith snorted, dipping his tea bag into his mug from where he was thumping, socked feet shuffling across smooth flooring. “As if, Lance. I’m just protecting my own. Do you know what my mom would do to me if I let my soulmate get arrested on a stupid charge like that? I’d be skinned alive!”

    “You may say that, dear, but I still know your affections for me run deep!”

    Keith grinned at the silly voice Lance had adopted. “Alright, you got me there.” He took a sip from his tea. “But I’m still not helping you break the law just to get a bobblehead for you.”

    “It’s not just a bobble head, Keith.  _ It’s my reputation _ .”

    Keith laughed warmly, having to still his arm so he didn’t spill his tea all over the floor. He almost didn’t hear the click of the lock until the door swung shut and Julie was announcing her presence into the household. She ducked around the corner, still obviously trying to toe out of her shoes. She gave him a smile and put a little finger to her lips, signaling her intention to be quiet. He returned her smile and put the receiver of his cell against his shoulder. “You want tea?” he asked quietly.

    “Oh, yes. If you please,” she sighed, a tired little smile over her lips. He gave a nod and twisted around to fix her a cup.

    “It may be your reputation, but what are your parents going to think when you end up in jail for breaking and entering?”

    Lance gave a hum. “Probably say to each other ‘I knew that troublemaker phase didn’t fully end!’”

    “Troublemaker phase, huh?” Keith questioned, his voice telling of his amused grin as he went about making his roommate’s cup of tea.

    “Oh yeah. Didn’t you know Keith? I’m a real ‘bad boy’ type.” Lance sounded very proud through his jesting tone and Keith’s cheeks were beginning to hurt. There was a rustling on the other end of the phone and then Lance gave a soft little groan. “I, uh. Sorry, I have to let you go, now.”

   “Oh. Alright,” Keith replied. He turned and handed the mug to his roommate. He stalled in returning to his own.

    “See you,” Lance said jovially.

    “Talk to you later,” Keith replied easily a second before Lance hung up the phone. He slipped it into his jean pocket and took up his mug again.

    Julie gave a cheeky grin. “And how was the famous soulmate?” she asked, waggling her eyebrows over the rim of her mug.

    Keith breathed a laugh. “Going through a crisis, actually. A marketing disaster that Lance is going to lose all his hair over.”

    She laughed and took a sip of her drink. “I hope not. His acting career wouldn’t be so hot then, would it?”

    “Forget his acting career, I think he might actually die.” Keith sat down at the table and folded a leg under himself comfortably.

    Companionable quiet spread between them as they drank their tea in the glow coming in from the windows of their apartment. Keith was surprised that out of all things, Julie continued on with discussion with his soulmate. He had expected her to continue on with the subject of their lease (an issue they both knew the answer to), or to ask about how matters were with work.

    “He’s good for you, Keith,” she said in a soft voice, with a little smile that suggested many things.

    Keith looked up from his mug, a curious turn to his lips. “What makes you say that?” he asked.

     She tapped her nose with her index finger and gave him a sure nod. “The fact that you, Keith Kogane the loner art student - never one to have company over or properly socialize, are being eased out of your little baby introverted shell and into the happy, wide world.”

    Keith snorted. “I do  _ not _ live in a baby introverted shell,” he muttered unhappily. Julie giggled, trying to affirm just the opposite. Keith gulped his tea in lieu of a reply, sticking his nose in the air with a little huff. It sent Julie over the edge with giggles and Keith was left with little more to do than to scrunch up his nose and protest the idea.

         Later, when he finally settled in for the night, a thought struck Keith. Wound up in his comforter, a sliver of an idea pierced through the bubble of warmth he had surrounded himself with.

A thought.

An image.

An urge.

    It had him jolting up and scrambling across his bed to his backpack tossed carelessly at the foot of his dresser. After an impressive stretch where his feet did  _ not _ leave the bed, Keith was able to snag the bag’s straps and pull it towards him. It was a clumsy little stretch, trying to reach all the way across the room without leaving the bed, but he made it work. Dare he say the worst part about the ordeal was getting back into bed with the bag in tow.

    There, again in the middle of his mattress with the bag in his lap, he was able to dig through its contents until he came across a small, leather bound sketchbook. It was barely used, something he had bought on a whim after it had caught his eye in the store. He flipped to the first unused page and took the closest pencil he could find, a 4B, and set about his sketch. He didn’t mind about the early hour of the morning, only on the soft pattern he was recreating from memory, soft strokes to match the softness of the graphite. The sharp jaw, nose he got from his father… the eyes and what emotions they held.

    This one was happy. Lance’s eyes were a bit wide with his smile, not quite as bright as the real thing, but it was the closest Keith could get under the circumstances and lack of tangible reference. Granted, it was messy and as smudged as his hand ended up being, but it made Keith smile to look back on the finished product in the low lamp light of his room at two thirty in the morning.

_ Fuck -  _ work in the morning was not going to be fun.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I call this chapter the "I thought this was going to be like 2K but my beta pointed something out and now it's 3.7K and I have no regrets" chapter
> 
> On the same subject: Do you know how proud I am of that chapter title? I really don't think you do. I was writing and I thought of it and there were exclamation points above my head, ok?  
> I hope you liked this installment! I was a bit stuck for a while, trying to connect this to everything I wrote during NaNo. I'm happy to say that I've only got a little more blank to fill in before it's smooth sailing for a little while.
> 
> Thank you to not only @Mikiri for beta reading this (and being a huge help making everything flow properly, Holy Fuck), but to @LittlePennyCandy, who also looked this chapter over for me! You can all thank her for the bobble head shenanigans that got my writer's block diminishing and the chapter going! She is truly an inspiration.  
> To have these two help me is like that one Justin Bieber tweet. So blessed. So very blessed.
> 
> Please leave me a comment! I enjoy writing this story so much, and I love to hear what you all think about it!  
> That being said, I have a tumblr you can come see me at! I made a new Voltron sideblog @goddammitlance , but you can also find me at my personal one @youngtiredandhungry !


	19. Good Luck Penny

         Lo and behold, Keith was correct in assuming that work the next day would be no bed of roses. His alarm blared from his phone at a bright and early eight o’clock and, despite his better judgement, he was able to wrench himself out of bed. Bleary eyed and entirely too exhausted for human interaction, Keith went to shower.

   A few minutes later found him dressed in his work uniform and socked feet as he shoved everything he needed into his backpack for the day.

    The trip to the shop was all of normal, with the exception of the headache threatening to bloom behind Keith’s browbone and curve around behind his left eye socket.

    He clocked in with weak hopes of a slow day and quiet customers. He gave Paula a little flick and a wish for some sort of mercy upon his being before the marathon run that was the morning shift.

    There is a certain feeling when a migraine releases; it’s often instantaneous in nature and you can instantly tell that the clouds were parting and the sun was beginning to shine. Like a deep breath of fresh spring air, it was refreshing. And so Keith’s long relieved sigh was justified in the break room just after half past ten.

    “Thank God,” he whispered, rubbing at the base of his skull. Scrolling through his phone was an option, now, instead of simply staring blankly at the grain of the table in the break room as he tried to will his migraine away. Still wary of it returning, Keith resolved to only check his notifications before putting the thing away again.

    What he found was a picture sent to him from Voltron, in a private message from Allura. It was a photo of Lance dozing off in a folding chair, chin tucked into his shoulder and arms curled around himself. “Poor thing dozed off during lunch,” Allura said. “We were surprised he didn’t start speaking in his sleep.”

    Keith snorted a laugh and saved the pic to his phone. “He talks in his sleep?” he asked before swiping off to Lance’s contact in his text messages. Give it to Lance to have the best timing and catch Keith on his break.

10:28

 _Lance:_ You want to go out to dinner?

 _Lance:_ Italian bc I’m a sucker for that shit and pasta is the light of my life.

 _Keith:_ is there a special occasion?

10:30

 _Lance:_ why does there have to be a special occasion to bring my bro out to dinner???

 _Lance:_ imma good soulmate ok maybe i just wanna buy you a meal

    Keith gave a little smile. Yeah, he knew Lance was a good soulmate. He’d earned that title a while ago.

 _Keith:_ does this Italian place mean I have to dress up? Or is it olive garden procedure?

 _Lance:_ presentation is important but it isn’t a red carpet babe

 _Keith:_ So olive garden?

 _Lance:_ Exactly

 _Lance:_ i’ll pick u up around 7 is that chill?

 _Keith:_ Yeah that’ll work

 _Lance:_ Nice!!!

**Lance has sent a photo**

    It was a selfie; it was Lance giving a thumbs up, a pretty half-smile in place. It was slightly blurry, taken in a hurry, Keith assumed it was because of the lady behind him. She held a makeup brush in her hand as she stood behind Lance’s chair, a displeased look on her face. He hoped Lance wouldn’t get in too much trouble for texting him and holding up the makeup process…

    He didn’t get much time to think about it because he was coming off break and getting back to work.

         Fifteen till eight is when they arrived at the restaurant. And, as Keith noted as soon as Lance pulled up to the building - it was _not_ Olive Garden status. It was high class, with people dressed smartly, ladies with dresses and others in suit jackets and pressed pants. Keith wasn’t sloppily dressed, not by any means. [But he didn’t exactly match up with the others here.](http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=214099394) Not with his cuffed jeans and the leather jacket with sleeves shoved up to his elbows.

    He groaned out a curse under his breath and looked to Lance beside him, who was speaking to the hostess. Keith nudged his soulmate in the ribs once they were being led to their table. “I thought you said it was Olive Garden type dress code,” he hissed into Lance’s ear. “You let me walk out of my apartment like this?” His soulmate had the gall to raise an eyebrow.

    “You look fine,” he said back. It sounded more like a question. “Don’t worry,” he told his soulmate softly. “I think you look good. We’re just here for food, anyway. It’s not like it’s an interview or a red carpet.”

    Keith let out a breath, thinned his lips and fought down a little flush. It was probably more in his head than anything, if he were honest. Yes, there were a few looks cast his way, but nothing further than glances. Nothing more than the realization that he was probably the most casually dressed person in the fucking building.

    Lance was certainly better dressed than he was, looking camera-ready for any moment.

    They had a table near the middle of the room, under one of the light fixtures that didn’t seem too be up too high. The tablecloth was pretty, with lace edging and a centerpiece and their place settings atop it. The menu was expensive and had Keith’s brain reeling for a few moments. Yeah… was it too late to head back to Olive Garden?

    The offered wine menu was waved away by Lance after he double checked with Keith that it was unwanted for the evening.

    “How was work?” Keith asked at the exact moment Lance was asking about his day. Two gasps and mirrored little laughs. Lance took a sip of his water, still giggling. Keith grasped the opportunity to repeat his question.

    Lance made a little sound and put down his glass. “I wasn’t on all that much today,” he confessed. “It was mostly this morning. A couple of one-on-one scenes with Shiro was all.”

    “How’d that go?” Keith wondered, still glancing around on the menu. He was going to go for the ziti. It was one of the lesser priced items, plus it was a good dish. He looked back up to Lance as he talked, showing that he was still paying close attention.

    Lance snorted and snapped his own menu shut. “I’m pretty sure ol’ Mel was going to kill us. My tongue was in knots for the first half of the shoot and for the second, Shiro was too busy cracking smiles at fucked up lines.”

    Keith gave a fond smile and stacked his menu on top of Lance’s. “Sounds fun.”

    Lance grinned. “Our director would beg to differ,” he said. “What about you; how was your day?”

    It was Keith’s turn to sip at his water. “It was pretty normal,” he confessed. “Had this killer headache earlier. Work almost sent me to my grave.”

   Lance hummed sympathetically and offered a possible homemade remedy involving eating spicy curry and talked about how he’s heard that it releases migraines. Keith firmly resolved to try that sometime and took the opportunity to make small talk, mostly surrounding how he knew several spicy curry recipes passed down from his mother. Lance listened happily, putting his own two cents in every now and again until they ordered their food and later, when they were finally able to tuck in.

    Keith thought that, clothing choices be damned, this restaurant was a good decision. He poked at his ziti, watching the steam come off of it in curls. It smelled amazing and if that  was anything to go by, it was going to be delicious.

    Lance was halfway into reaching out for a breadstick when he clicked his tongue, seemingly at himself. He took the breadstick and idly began pulling it into little pieces, tossing them to his plate, abandoned.

    Keith lifted an eyebrow at him, pausing his fork halfway to his mouth. “What?”

    Lance startled, having been jolted back to the present. He looked Keith up and down. “‘What’ what?” he asked.

    “Why are you mutilating the bread?” he inquired, looking pointedly at the bits and pieces under Lance’s fingers. Lance blinked as if just realizing what he was doing. He discarded the rest of the bread and wiped his fingers on a napkin. Keith took a breath and set his utensil back down. “What’s up?” he asked.

    Lance paused before answering. “I’m heading out to Nevada for work soon. The twenty-sixth.”

    Keith nodded, albeit slowly. “Really? Gonna go shoot in Vegas or something?”

    Lance gave a little laugh. “No, but close. There’s a dry lake bed we’re going to be spending a lot of time at. Supposedly it’s a little cheaper siting a location rather than building the entire thing ala studio.” He shrugged a shoulder. “From what I’ve heard, most of the new season takes place there.”

    Keith’s mouth made a little curious ‘o’. “Takes place where, exactly?” he wondered aloud, picking up his fork again and finally taking his bite. _Oh-kay_. Yep. He was right. Fucking delicious. He shot a look over at Lance, who had mirrored his actions and was finally tucking into his meal.

    “Oh you know, just another planet. I can’t really remember its name but there are these aliens that-,” he stopped himself short, cheek full of noodles. He looked up at Keith and narrowed his eyes. “I can’t give out spoilers,” he said pointedly.

    Keith deflated, poking at his ziti again. “Oh, come on,” he sighed. “ _One_ detail is all I ask.”

    Lance snorted. “Yeah, at first it’s one detail and then another one. And pretty soon, I’m gonna be telling you all the spoilers this side of the moon. Have I mentioned that I could get sued for leaking stuff like that?” He punctuated the last part with a poke in the air with his fork.

    Keith raised his hands in a surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll let it lie,” he relented. They both took that as the cue to begin eating the rest of their food. It was a companionable quiet, littered with the clink of glasses and of utensils scraping on dishes. Keith paused in the middle of chewing as a thought struck him. “How long are you going to be gone?” he questioned, looking up to his soulmate, mumbling awkwardly through his mouthful

    Lance made a sound of acknowledgement before he put his cutlery down. He cleared his throat and took a drink before he answered. “Three weeks.”

    Keith coughed despite not having anything left to choke on. He spluttered in surprise into the top of his fist. “Jeez - oh hell,” he muttered, calming down some. “Three weeks?” he repeated, stressing the last word. “Fuck, you weren’t kidding! You probably have a hell of a lot to film over there.”

    Lance nodded mutely. Another drink. “Yeah, quite a bit, apparently.” He pursed his lips and twisted them off to the side. His fingers tapped the side of the table in little motions, three times with his middle finger, twice with his ring finger. He clicked his tongue and went back to eating his food.

    Keith let a sigh out through his nose and his own chewing slowed for a moment, careful and contemplative. Three weeks. That’s one hell of a long time. Keith didn’t think that they had gone a day without talking to each other since they had been marked. Of course, Lance going across state lines didn’t mean they wouldn’t talk. Phones were a thing. Obviously. Voltron didn’t disappear even if Lance was going to for a little while. And he wasn’t _disappearing_. He was going on the equivalent of a business trip.  Keith resisted clicking his tongue at himself and rapping his knuckles against his own temple.

    This was fine, he told himself, trying to calm the impending feeling of panic. It’s just three weeks. Three weeks isn’t really even that long. Yeah. It’d be alright.

    “How am I gonna last three weeks without seeing your face?” Lance mourned aloud, his over-dramatic face taking over.

    Keith snorted. “You’ll survive,” he assured him.

    Lance sighed, swirling the liquid in his glass. “But _will_ I?” he all but moaned in despair. “I don’t believe that I can!”

    “I guess you’re just going to have to Skype me, then,” Keith said with a little nod.

    That made Lance pause for a second. A moment later he was nodding eagerly, grinning. “Yeah! Absolutely. Text me the details, okay?”

    “Okay.” Keith smiled into his glass. “I’ll send it to you.”

Lance just fucking _beamed_.

    The waitress appeared with the bill, laying it beside Lance’s place. “Oh, thank you,” he said, pulling his wallet from the back pocket of his slacks.

    Keith jumped. “Oh. Right.” He quickly made to grab his own wallet out of the inner pocket of his jacket.

    Lance caught the movement and smiled, motioning him down. “Chill, I got it,” he said, giving a satisfied smile.

    Keith frowned. “Are you sure? I can pay my half.”

    Lance scoffed and waved him off. “What’s fame and fortune if you can’t buy your friend a meal every once in awhile?” He tucked his card into the little booklet before handing it back to the waiting woman. Keith relented and slid his wallet back in his pocket.

   “Next one’s on me,” he decided firmly. Lance nodded his approval and the two of them were left to finish their food. It wasn’t too long before their waitress came back with Lance’s card and two receipts to sign.

    Keith couldn’t help glancing over and watching Lance scrawl his name on the little receipt. He looked at the final product scribbled on Lance’s copy of the cheque and his eyebrows furrowed. “Vasquez-McClain?” he questioned. “You use two last names?”

    “Oh. I was going to put the rest of them on there, but there wasn’t enough space. See, actually, I use all three of my parent’s last names! They did the whole hyphen thingie, so, in reality, I’m Lance Percy Alexander Harris-McClain-Vasquez.”

    “You have two middle names, too?” Keith questioned, raising an eyebrow.

    Lance shrugged nonchalantly. “Yeah. It’s better than Miss Allura Marna Piper Serena Harris-McClain-Vasquez.”

    “Holy shit,” Keith breathed, a little in awe.

    “Mhm,” Lance hummed, scarfing down the rest of his pasta, ignoring the clink of silverware on porcelain. “Our parents aren’t that great at compromising on kid’s names.”

    Keith shook his head. “Obviously. Oh my God, man.” As soon as Lance was finished with the remnants of his pasta, the two of them stood. Lance shrugged on the jacket he had taken off and Keith adjusted his, pushing the sleeves back down his forearms and straightening them out some.

    They walked together to the front of the restaurant and back to Lance’s car. Lance clicked the key fob and the car unlocked, flashing its headlights. Their footsteps thumped on the cracked, dirty asphalt. Keith had just stepped over a spiderweb crack before he paused, seeing a small, gleaming coin lying innocently on the dark ground.

    He stooped to grab it, picking the penny up off of the grainy asphalt. Lance looked back to him curiously, registering that his soulmate had, in fact, fallen out of step with him.

    “What is that?” he asked, his head tilting a little.

    Keith held the coin up between his fingers. “Good luck,” he told Lance.

    “It looks like a penny.” His voice was unenthused, borderline deadpan and Keith clicked his tongue at him.

    “‘See a penny pick it up’?” Keith said, a little song to his tone. Lance’s stare was flat, so he went on. “See a penny, pick it up, and the rest of the day you’ll have good luck? Have you never heard this as a kid?”

    Lance’s nose crinkled. “No, I don’t remember that.”

    Keith blew out a sigh and shook his head in disappointment. “Cultureless heathen,” he sniffed as he got in the car.

    “Is that an actual thing?” Lance asked as he too got into the car. He peered curiously at Keith as he pulled the seat belt over his chest.

    “Yeah, it’s totally a thing. This little fucker is now a good luck charm.” He kept the penny tight in his palm and grinned across the console at Lance.

    “Okay,” Lance said, relenting. “Believe what you will.” He started the car up and it purred to life, the air conditioner emitting a pleasant breeze.

    “I will thanks,” Keith snarked, fighting to bite down the grin threatening to form.

    “Well don’t get snooty,” Lance warned as he worked on shifting gears and pulling out to the road.

    The trip back to Keith’s apartment was uneventful. Full of typical traffic, but all in all, uneventful. Pretty soon Lance was walking Keith to the elevator in the parking garage, his keys jingling in his hands as he walked through the echoing space.

    “Well, Lance,” Keith said, punching the button to summon the elevator down before adding, “Percy Alexander Harris-McClain- Vasquez.” It earned a snigger from Lance and Keith joined him with his own after a second. “This is where we have to say goodnight. The apartment is a horrific mess right now.”

    Lance’s mouth formed a little ‘o’ and he nodded. “That’s cool. I’ll call you tomorrow, alright?” Lance’s hands, keys and all delved into his pockets.

    Keith nodded. “Yeah, definitely.” He offered a smile, the little tilt of lips was something a little more private than the previous ones. Lance turned to go just as a notion struck Keith. “Oh, Lance!” The man paused in his step and turned back to Keith, blinking.

    “Yeah?”

    Keith held his closed hand out, palm down. Lance was left to pull his hands out of his pockets and offer them out to accept whatever Keith was giving him. Keith dropped the little penny into his hands. Lance looked at it in confusion. “This is…?”

    “Yours. For good luck in Nevada.” Keith’s explanation burned a color into Lance’s cheeks that  neither of them mentioned. The elevator dinged behind Keith as it arrived. “Drive back safely,” was the last thing he said, entering the elevator. He punched the ‘5’ button and stood back. He smiled at Lance one last time, giving him a wave as the elevator doors closed. Lance waved back animatedly, grinning like a madman. It warmed Keith’s chest in a way he couldn’t explain or justify.

Just like the grin he couldn’t wipe off his own face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  "pasta is the light of my life" I've never written anything so ME in my lifetime.
> 
> Ahhh I hope you all like this chapter! I did. Even if it took for fucking Ever to get out.
> 
> And Oh No! Lance and the Gang is head to Nevada!! What's gonna HAPPENNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN
> 
> A fucking HUGE thank you to @Mikiri, my beta and @LittlePennyCandy. She's the one who helped get my writer's block behind me and the story flowing better. She also helped beta this chapter! Bless. I'm glad she did otherwise this chapter would have been a very Giving one. *inwardly cackles*
> 
> Please comment and tell me how you feel about this chapter! I love the comments so much! =D
> 
> I'm on tumblr! My [Voltron ](https://goddammitlance.tumblr.com)blog and my [personal](http://youngtiredandhungry.tumblr.com/) one!
> 
> I hope all of you have an amazing New Year! Let's all hope that it's better from She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named (*coughcoughtwentyfuckingsixteencoughcough)


	20. The Club (Pidge’s Annual Glass of Alcohol)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys see that trailer? Because I did. This update almost didn't come out because now I Am Dead. I Was Slain

         “We gotta make sure it works,” was Lance’s excuse to Skype Keith that Friday. “Just incase I get trapped in Nevada and die in the desert, I wanna see your face one last time.”

    Keith snorted a laugh and consented. Not more than a minute later, Lance’s name popped up on his laptop screen. He accepted the call and found Lance in the web camera of a laptop. He looked as if he was in his kitchen, the webcam picked up the popping and sizzling from some kind of pan in the open space.

    “Good morning!” Lance grinned at Keith, in all his ‘I woke up looking like death and called it couture’ glory. Lance’s voice was but a fraction of the clarity of what his phone offered, or hearing it face to face, but it still made Keith’s gut flip all the same.

    Keith snorted and scratched at his chin. “Good morning, Lan,” he said lowly. He shifted on the little balcony, putting his cup of tea off to the ground. “Roommate’s asleep, don’t be too loud, please.”

    “Yeah, yeah, no worries,” Lance said, bringing his voice down a notch. He tilted back his laptop screen so the picture was expanded a bit. The kitchen was bright and airy, Keith couldn’t see the entirety of it but he remembered it from the night with Lance’s parents. Lance, blue apron wearing Lance, had a spatula in one hand while the other was tapping at a phone settled beside the stove top (the laptop was settled on the counter above the range).

    “What are you cooking?” Keith asked curiously, looking at the bit of frame that hinted at a cutting board.

    “I’m just fixing myself breakfast,” Lance told him offhandedly, “keeping up with the fools in the chat.” He sniggered. “Katie’s birthday is coming up and she’s refusing to participate in the birthday party planning process.”

    Keith hummed and reached down to pick his phone up from next to his mug. He unlocked the screen and tapped to the app, eyebrows jumping at the little red bubble telling him how many new messages there were. “I thought Matt’s birthday was soon,” he mentioned, tapping the icon and scrolling up quickly, checking the conversation.

    Lance looked up at him, his eyebrows creased. “I don’t think his birthday is until like September,” he said. His eyes met the ceiling for a second as he thought. “Yeah, September the twenty sixth. Why’d you think it was soon?”

    Keith rolled a shoulder. “When I met up with Pidge, she told me that we were finding birthday presents for her brother.”

    Lance made a sound that depicted him in the light of an old ancient one with scores of knowledge ahead of Keith. “Oh. I got you. Katie is months ahead of everyone on gifts. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s got ‘em planned years in advance.” He shook his head at the young woman, even though she wouldn’t be able to see the gesture. “It might seem excessive, but when you get as busy as we of fame do, you tend to start keeping your time very well.”

    Keith made an understanding face. “I can imagine.” His eyes drifted back down to his phone and the constantly updating chat.

RagretfulDad203: I’m gonna do it.

Keith2urHeart: do what?

ActualSkyPidgeon: You’d better not, Takashi Shirogane. I will put myself up for figurative adoption away from you, my figurative Second Dad Figure.

Keith2urHeart: Ive never seen you text with perfect grammar before

TheTailor: u dnt want to

TheTailor: it means she’s serious and all the memes are gone from her brain

    Lance looked up and made eye contact with Keith. The jovial fear was almost just fear.

RagretfulDad203: I’m going to do it.

ActualSkyPidgeon: Do not do it.

Keith2urHeart: DO WHAT?!!?

 **holtyaapplesauce has been added to chat:** **  
** **_wow i can’t believe that people think kt is an adult_ **

ActualSkyPidgeon: Takashi McFuckin Shirogane what have you done.

RagretfulDad203: It’s for your own good

Keith2urHeart: who’s that?

Holtyaapplesauce: how could one not know Taylor Swift when xe saw her???

Keith2urHeart: wait what holy shit

TheTailor: don’t listen to him  Keith he’s not TSwift

TheTailor: sadly

TheTailor: he’s just Pidge’s older brother

Keith2urHeart: oh.

holtyaapplesauce: You Don’t Have To Sound So Disappointed

TheTailor: i just looked at him on my laptop and he’s actual v excited dont let his Screen Persona fool you fam

TheTailor: he called me a traitor

**TheTailor has changed their name to TheTraitor**

TheTraitor: I think it fits, yes

    Keith pinned Lance with an indignant stare, but Lance just smiled. And he had the audacity to wink.

TheTraitor: lmao he said ‘fuck you’

TheTraitor: im down when u cumin over

Keith2urHeart: for the love of God, Lance Percy Alexander Harris-McClain-Vasquez

TheTraitor: yeah? :D

ActualSkyPidgeon: y’all are fuckign nasty and that is not why we’re here

holtyaapplesauce: no theyre not Katie leave them alone but yeah youre right thats not why im here

Keith2urHeart: why are we here

TheTraitor: aw Keith you’re so clueless it’s adorable!!!

TheTraitor: how many times have i been flipped off over skype by Keith tonight? Novody knows

Keith2urHeart: you need a sock in the nose

holtyaapplesauce: WE ARE GATHERED HERE TODAY

holtyaapplesauce: TO DISCUSS PLANS FOR MY DEAR BABY SISTER KATHERINE’S NINETEENTH BIRTHDAY CELEBRATIONS

ActualSkyPidgeon: plans that’ll be wasted bc im not having a party

holtyaapplesauce: I

holtyaapplesauce: I go through all of this effort

holtyaapplesauce: all of this work to plan the perfect bday party with plenty of important people as possible guests

holtyaapplesauce: and you just don’t want to celebrate

ActualSkyPidgeon: oh shit you got me there

ActualSkyPidgeon: just gimme whateer you got me and leave it at that

holtyaapplesauce: now let me just say that i was totally going to get you something extremely amazing for your birthday this year katie

holtyaapplesauce: but i wrote you something instead

ActualSkyPidgeon: oh my god

ActualSkyPidgeon: no

ActualSkyPidgeon: for the love of all things good pls dont

holtyaapplesauce: For Katie I was goign to buy something very nice/ but i decided just to not./once in Washington kate smoked some pot/ i told her not to but she did/ her ramblings got hella wack/ it was hard to keep track/ but i got some pretty good blackmail material/ so we’ll leave it at that

ActualSkyPidgeon: What The Fucking Hell.

RagretfulDad203: Turns out that Matt drunk wrote that in 12 minutes a while ago

Keith2urHeart: that took 12 minutes?

TheTailor: it was beautiful

ActualSkyPidgeon: it doesn’t even rhyme most of the time!!

holtyaapplesauce: you just don’t appreciate ART KATELYN

ActualSkyPidgeon: i have nothing to say to this

**ActualSkyPidgeon has left the chat**

holtyaapplesauce: anywaysies she’ll come around i know it

         Katie’s birthday plans - and as sort of a farewell party for the actors present - were settled easier than Keith thought they would have been. Katie didn’t want anything large, just something contained but fun. Their parents wouldn’t be flying in from France, sadly, but they would make do, Matt said.

    Apparently, Matt’s idea of ‘making do’ was clubbing. He had supposedly selected the perfect club and all everyone had to do from there was show up.

    Sounded easy enough, didn’t it?

Wrong. That would be so wrong.

    It started off as Keith would have expected it to, with trying to find something decent to wear, regretting not planning ahead and taking an hour to find where his good shoes were hiding out. After that it was the constant stream and commentary throughout the group chat, Katie was posting step by step photographs of every fuck-up that had happened, especially when Matt had bumped her shoulder while she was lining her eyes. Somehow, it had all ended up on her forehead in a Harry Potter-esque fashion. She put on her round glasses and held up a tube of mascara like a wand. The caption of the photo was the ever tasteful “I’m Harry fucking Potter.” The photo after that was one of Matt, who was banished out of the wash room to do the remaining bits of his own readying process in front of a tiny mirror on the inside of a compact at the foot of a couch, a pout on his lips.

    Allura, while she wasn’t able to participate in the whole affair, since she had been required to fly out a day before, day-of all of the crazy, commented on most things, such as how Shiro’s eyeliner never looked finer or more perfect and about how she practically ordered everyone to down plenty of water before they all headed out. Shiro also joined in on the latter part, especially towards Lance, who apparently had a reputation about being the worst about that sort of thing.

    In offense about the obvious singling out, Lance shared a picture of himself, a bottle of Fiji practically empty as he chugged it down, eyes wide and defiant.

    From there it was catching the Lyft called for him by Katie (“My party, my treat, dude,” she said when she told him about it.) and coming to the club Matt had picked out especially for this occasion. Keith didn’t see anything especially special about it from the outside beside the lines stretching along the side of the building on the sidewalk, slowly filtering people into the club. There was all of a full minute where Keith was getting out of the car, stepping out on the curb until he was found by Hunk, who seemed to be waiting for him.

    With a huge smile and a large hand clapped on Keith’s shoulder, Hunk led Keith down the sidewalk, bypassing all in the roped off line going down the building.

    “How’s your ride in?” Hunk asked Keith. His tone was light and warm.

    Keith let out a breath and smiled up at the taller man. “It was fine,” he told Hunk. “Really the only hiccup that’s happened so far was finding my shoes.”

    Hunk laughed and squeezed Keith’s shoulder and glanced down at the barely worn dress shoes that Keith had stressed over so much for. “Evaded you, did they?”

    Keith nodded. “I found an old pair of stilettos faster than I found these, man. They hid like I had the goddamn plague, or something.”

    Hunk pulled a face and held his hands up. “Hey, man, you might! On second thought, maybe we shouldn’t go clubbing tonight!” his eyes widened in terror and Keith snorted a small fit of laughter into the side of his fist. Soon enough, Hunk’s façade cracked as well and he was giggling along until they came to the complete front of the line at the door.

    As soon as they were passed the bouncer (a man who rivaled Shiro in height in build, but seemingly friendly compared to most of the bouncers Keith had met in his lifetime), Keith was hit with the tight, hot space of the club. As they were on the ominous “List”, the group of them was already inside and apparently in the VIP area Matt had insisted on renting out for his little sister’s party. Keith learned along the way that Hunk was the one elected to go and weave his way back out through the crowd to go fetch Keith from outside, as they had learned via text that his car would soon be pulling up. Lance, their choice-elect, was downstairs going for a round of drinks. Hunk was right next in line as his platonic’s successor.

    The VIP area was a little ways up a small flight of stairs up to a loft overlooking the bar and part of the dance floor. The floor was made mostly of close-knit grating and the roof of skylights, showing taller buildings and the expanse of sky above. Viewing parts of the ground floor through the thick grating beneath their feet was blocked by electrical equipment, stringing the flashing, obnoxiously multicolored lights together, much in the same way as the speakers were. The entirety of the VIP area was made up of a small cluster of tables with lots of room between them. Surrounding each table was a small ring of couches covered in black leather and… people.

    “People” being Matt, reclining with a drink in his hands and a laugh in the air as he watched Katie and Shiro dance something straight out of the 50’s, with lots of twirling that looked almost comical with their size difference and to the pumping EDM music they were ignoring. Another twirl and Shiro shifted the hold he had on Katies hand so that their fingers were threaded. Both stopped and dipped their heads in a little bow towards Matt, and Hunk and Keith.

    “Is it weird,” Katie started to her brother, her hands smoothing the deep green material of her dress down the backs and the side of her thighs, “that we use all of our downtime together to memorize dance routines? I feel like that’s a weird-ass thing to do with your Platonic.” She slumped her shoulders while Shiro down next to his soulmate and took a breath.

    “I thought it was fun,” Shiro offered, grinning widely, showing off his perfect teeth.

    “You also like putting together 3,000 piece puzzles with Matt at our house on the weekends like a couple who’s just celebrated your golden anniversary,” she pointed out. “Sorry to break it to you, Shiro, but you’re an old man, now. One who enjoys _swing dancing_ of all things.” While she talked, she moved around the couches towards the two new-comers. “Keith!” She grinned as soon as she got near to him. “Glad you made it! You look nice.” She looked him up and down and gave him a thumbs up. “Very nice, my friend.”

    Keith smiled crookedly. “Thanks. You too; the dress is stunning.” He gave her a like thumbs up that had her laughing.

    “Thanks, man,” she said, her smile clearly heard in her voice. She suddenly looked in between Hunk and Keith, back towards the stairs. “ _Finally!_ ” she called. Keith looked over his shoulder to find Lance, holding a tray precariously on one hand.

    “The drinks have arrived!” he declared in a loud voice. “Keith! There you are!” He grinned at his soulmate and stopped directly in front of him and Hunk. He held the tray a little higher, offering the glasses of champagne he held. “We’re toasting,” he said cheerfully. “It’s our baby’s birthday and we have to toast.”

    “How am I your baby, Lance? Explain that one to me,” Katie butted in from behind Keith as she stepped around him and went to wrap her fingers around the stem of a flute.

    “You’re like our collective child, duh.” Lance snorted and moved to Matt and Shiro as soon as Hunk and Keith took their glasses as well. “We protect, care for and nurture you. Like a child!” Katie rolled her eyes with a heavy breath.

    “You’re not my _real mom_ ,”she protested, leading Keith and Hunk back to the couches. Shiro and Matt stood up when they were offered their champagne, taking it gracefully (Matt swapping out his copper mug for the flute) and readying themselves for toasts. “Obviously Matt is,” Katie continued, “‘Duh.’”

    Matt cackled, but nodded his head up and down. “Of course I am!”

    “Alright, alright, alright,” Lance muttered, shaking his head and discarding the tray on the table. “Moving on from you heathens.” He shook his head at them briefly before raising his glass. “To Pidge: the child I would have if Matt hadn’t have taken her away from me. You are a quality, caring individual, even if you’re sometimes the most frustrating person I know.” Pidge cooed and lifted her glass in thanks, grinning madly. Keith is sure that her glasses would have caught the light and glinted if she had been wearing them.

    Lance gestured to Hunk, the one next in the circle to his right. The man raised his glass, grinning at the young woman. “To Pidge, I hope this year is better than your last and all of your projects are as successful as they can be.”

    Next was Matt, who stood a little straighter, puffed his chest out and held his glass and gestured to his little sister proudly. “To Katie, the best damn little sibling I could have asked for. My friend, confidant and messy-as-all-hell housemate. The one who’s first words were both ‘mother’ and ‘fucker’, the one who keeps our house from burning down because you learned how to cook when I couldn’t make anything more than peas. I hope everything you do in this next year kills.” He tipped his glass to her, smiling just as she was.

    Shiro shifted his weight and licked his lips in what could have been a nervous matter. He, in turn, lifted his glass, the multicolored lights around playing tricks in his champagne and the rim of his glass. “To Pidge, the brightest young woman I’ve ever met and the best - and yes, the only - future sister-in-law I’ve ever had.” He smile brilliantly at her. “You’re an amazing Platonic and I’m thoroughly blessed to know you.”

    Katie smiled so widely, Keith thought her skin might split for a second. She tossed her arms around Shiro and hugged him tightly, though minding the champagne flute. Keith thought it must have been a much easier feat with the heels she had on, as they added to her height considerably. “Thank you,” Keith thought he might have heard her say. It was hard to tell, as the music from below was so loud, filling the air in the upper area as well.

    She pulled back and Keith was aware of all the eyes on him. “Oh,” he breathed, realizing it was his turn to toast. He swallowed, trying to think of a suitable toast.

    “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Katie assured him with a shrug of her shoulder. “It’s just a tradition we do at one of our birthdays.”

    “No,” Keith said, shaking his head. “Just let me… okay. To Katie. I haven’t known you long, but... I know that you are a good person and deserve only the best. And I hope you… get. That.” He gave a little smile. “Happy birthday.”

    “Happy birthday!” Lance cheered, jutting his glass forward so he could click it with the side of Katie’s. The rest of them joined the cheer and took drinks from their glasses. “Now,” Lance said, tone most conversational. “Let’s all get shit-faced in celebration and with the fact that we won’t be able to with our boy Keith for like, almost a month fresh in our minds.”

    “I have no objections,” Katie said, earning a little look from Shiro.

    “I do,” Shiro said. “That’s your last glass of alcohol.”

    “But _dad_!” she said, exasperated. “C’mon! It’s my birthday!”

    Shiro shook his head firmly. “You’re under twenty-one. Go dance, but no more alcohol.”

    Katie gave a heaving sigh and conceded. “ _Fine_.”

    Lance, on the other hand, tossed one arm around Keith, the other around Hunk. “That rule doesn’t apply to us, boys. Let’s go get shit-faced!”

         Sinful. That was the only word running through Keith’s mind an hour later. It was half after twelve and, true to Lance’s words, he got the three of them drunk. Completely, utterly… drunk. Keith didn’t even remember what all Lance had them drink. There were shots, Keith remembered. Something red and sweet, too. He had liked that one.

    From the bar, there they went to dance. Katie joined them for a little while, dancing with a tall man with black hair for a while, and then Hunk before she told them that she was going to go grab another drink and then retreat back up to the VIP area. She confided to Keith about her heel woes and he was able to sympathize plenty.

    But _sinful_ , the word - no, strike that. The _image_ filling his brain left Keith almost as drunk as the alcohol in him. The image of Lance - specifically Lance _dancing_ \- was fucking intoxicating. Keith couldn’t take his eyes off the way he rolled his hips and how he twisted and enticed more than a few people to dance along with him. Keith watched how Lance shuffled through multiple partners for a while, each one left breathless and a little flushed after he was done with them.

    Keith wasn’t the best dancer sober. He was pretty sure that being intoxicated would have made this fact a million times worse. He was pretty sure that was the reason he stuck to the sidelines of the floor, drink cradled in his hands as he swayed in small movements to the music that threatened to blow out his ears. A few moments later found Keith’s drink empty and Keith at the bar, putting his glass down as he tried to flag down one of the two bartenders. Just as he did catch the attention of one and get a drink out of them, there was a touch to his shoulder.

    He turned around to find his soulmate standing behind him. Lance’s body was still in tune with the music, it seemed - even after getting off of the floor - as he still moved to the beat, small movements like how he moved his arms and the small shuffle of his feet under him.

    “Keith, come dance with me,” he said, his voice slurred and breathless and a little too loud between them, even with the music in their ears.

   Keith figured that he probably should have declined. After all, he wasn’t the best dancer. He could barely keep a beat.

   But… Dance with me, he said. Keith might regret it later, but he took Lance’s hand and let himself be dragged out to the dance floor with Lance’s warm, slightly clammy hand against his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Sniggers* Guys, Keith's (obviously) hella gay
> 
> Oh! Shoutout to "Bunnychan1200" who commented on chapter 15 (which I just reread and I completely forgot that I had written the text part to that chapter) and said, and I quote: "If Shiro is dad then is Matt mom? Now i need pidge screeching "MOM" when Shiro does a dad thing" That Inspired™ me bc Pidge would totally do that, you know???
> 
> Alright-y, thank you to @Mikiri for beta reading this chapter and giggling with me over Keith in strap-y red stilettos. Just... Imagine that for a sec. You're welcome.
> 
> I'm on tumblr with my [Voltron](https://goddammitlance.tumblr.com/) blog and my [Personal](http://youngtiredandhungry.tumblr.com/) one.
> 
> Please drop me a comment! I just die of joy every time I get a notif saying that someone has given me one! :)


	21. Blackout (Drunk)

         Dance with me, Lance had said. He had said Keith’s name and batted his pretty fucking eyelashes that rendered Keith defenseless.

    This wasn’t what friends do with friends. Not this kind of dancing, where their hands were all over each other and there where hips bumping against hips, Lance’s breath on Keith’s nape. Not the kind of dancing that had Keith short of breath, catching his breath as he moved against Lance. This wasn’t friendly. This was… arousing. This was sexy - this was simply, completely _right_.

    The worst part is that Keith was thoroughly enjoying it. He loved the closeness that he hadn’t particularly indulged in since late last year. He loved the warmth not only where Lance was touching him but also in his chest and lower. He was enjoying this _so fucking much_.

Too much.

     He was drunk, yeah? That’s… that’s reason enough for this. The excuse (was that the right word? He mused over it for a second. Well… maybe there wasn’t a word for it, the fuzzy feeling in his head that softened the edges of his resolve and made him _want things_ ) of the alcohol in his brain is reason enough for him to be enjoying this so easily and willingly dancing so long and in such a manner. Drunk, dancing, having fun. Was that really all so bad?

Yes. Yes it goddamn was.

    If he let himself indulge in this dance with the bass pumping close in his chest then maybe he’d start to find himself indulging into something a lot hotter that would end up with more shortness of breath and _fuck,_ now Keith was thinking about fucking Lance. It wouldn’t be so bad, Keith decided. Not bad at all. He wanted to, after all. He’d thought about kissing Lance before, even going farther than that - he’d thought about that a few times before they met too. Wandering thoughts, you know. How would he sound? There were three movies in which there was sex scenes featuring Lance. Each one was different with Lance playing vastly different characters. So yeah, Keith knew how how that character Charlie fucked. He knew how Jacob fucked. He knew how Javi fucked.

    How did Lance fuck? That was the question Keith _really_ wanted the answer to.

    Could he have his answer? Well that was up to the both of them. Keith wondered if Lance would like to sleep with him. Maybe he would, maybe he wouldn’t. If all signs were right then Keith thought he just might. If the hand currently drifting across his abdomen was any indication, then that was a yes. So if Lance was willing and fully consensual (that put sex off the table for tonight, Keith decided resolutely. Drunk sex was never great for him. There was sloppiness and old alcohol on breath that quite frankly grossed him out a little bit and, most importantly, there were foggy minds. There was no way in the deepest darkest pits of hell that he was going to put himself in a situation that he or another party wasn’t in a proper position to be consenting to sex) then what was his reasoning for denying himself something he wanted so much?

    He didn’t know. He was scared. Scared of commitment, he guessed. Scared to be left behind in the dust of his amazingly talented, brilliant, really fucking famous soulmate Lance mother fucking Harris-Vasquez-McClain.

    This was a pain to think about. He didn’t want to think about it, but it was a recurring theme in his mind these days. He didn’t want to be his parents. He knew he wasn’t, but that didn’t stop the possibility that maybe, just fucking _maybe_ he would turn out to be.

    Who was it that said you turn into your parents? Did they mean both parents or just one? That’d be pretty fucked up if Keith turned into them. Even if he wouldn’t mind so much becoming like his mom. She was strong willed and independant and didn’t give a fuck about societal rule and regulations and roles. She did what she wanted and didn’t say sorry unless it was _actually warranted_ . She took care of her family and didn’t need a _soulmate_ of all things to justify her worth to her peers.

    Then again, maybe Keith was just biased. He didn’t wanna become his dad. To Keith, he was a coward. He was the one who left him and his siblings alone with their mom. He was the one who made sure that he and Keith mom got divorced, just so he could go ahead and get married again. He was the one who defaced his original soulmark, covering it over with something a bit more intricate so that it hid his bond to Keith’s mom, his true soulmate. He was the one who got matching Faux Marks with his new wife, a little wiry tattoo stretching from their wrist to elbows.

    He erased his mark that was supposed to bring him shame and put on a new one, a brighter, prettier one, with a newer, brighter, prettier wife.

    Keith didn’t want to end up like that. He’d much rather take things slow, building up to when he and Lance might  be happy, when they might be together and get that little house with the white picket fence and those six kids Lance joked about with his family. Slow and steady, his mind supplied in a song. Slow and steady wins the race. If he rushed and everything, all of the passions bled out of them just as quickly as they came and he was left tired and sleepy, bored with his soulmate… exhausted, irritated and unhappy… That would be…

    He didn’t even want to think about it. He’d be happier ambling along their path, slowly building up. Enduring his wants to kiss Lance’s mouth, to have Lance fuck him into his mattress, wanting the more pure things like cuddling and hand holding, that’d be easy. It would be easier and that much more rewarding in the long run, when he’d be able to cross the finish line with Lance beside him - someone he could call his best friend, his lover, his _partner_ . Not just in crime, or dating, or whatever, but in _life_ , then yeah. He could wait. He would wait.

He’s gotta wait.

    And with that thought and the thumping bass in his chest, Keith pulled away from his soulmate and instantly felt cold. He turned to face Lance and leaned up to his ear. “I’m going to go get a drink,” he told him over the music and stumbled off to do just that, not looking back while he pushed through the bodies all packed in the club for the party as he went to the bar, mind set on ordering nothing more than a water. He’d had enough alcohol for tonight. Alcohol made him loose and fluid. It let his thoughts flow both in his mind and through his mouth. And with the thoughts he had just been pondering, letting them out wasn’t an option. That’d be embarrassing and he’d be left so stupid vulnerable. Keith didn’t let himself be taken vulnerable. He stood strong and kept his head up.

    And so he sat at the bar, sipping his water as people filtered around him. Most were drunk and some were incoherent, but Keith paid them no mind. If he looked around, he would have seen party goers and couples all around him, drinking, dancing and having fun. Pidge was no longer to be seen. He wasn’t so sure if she was in with the dance floor crowd, or if she had actually disappeared from her own birthday party as previously planned. Keith wondered if he could sneak out too, outside to let the night air clear his head for a bit.

    After a minute of sitting still and sipping at his water, Keith slid off his stool and began to navigate his way throughout the maze of sweaty bodies and overwhelming perfumes from everyone around him. Why wear a perfume if you’re just going to be covered from head to toe with dozens as soon as you leave the club? It didn’t make sense to Keith’s clouded mind.

    He managed to find the door after a moment. He slipped through it and stumbled along the little sidewalk outside of the club, out into the cool, open night air. He ended up with his back against the front end of the building, far enough down to avoid the people in line to get in.

    Breathing in the air that tasted like too much alcohol and remnants of perfume. He had a suspicion it was just all lingering in his mouth, clinging to his tongue in a way that was truly disgusting. He wanted another glass of water - maybe a seltzer - to try and cleanse his mouth and get the disgusting taste away from his consciousness. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and took a large breath through his nose. It didn’t smell very much better.

    He hummed in disappointment and dropped his head to his chest. The June air was warm against his skin, but he felt the need for a person beside him. One in particular, really. Lance. He wanted Lance. He… _really_ wanted Lance.

    He closed his fist and knocked against the side of his temple with it, willing himself to sober up, think straight. Of course he wanted Lance. He’s wanted him for a long time, now. He just… couldn’t have him.

    He couldn’t remember why he couldn’t have him, not in this state of mind. He just knew that he hadn’t allowed himself to pursue him. Sober Keith probably had a good reason for that, too. Which meant that he should probably, most definitely _not_ follow through with his wishes until Sober Keith could sort through his shit and figure it all out.

    Keith let out a little sound and let his head tip back to thump against the bricks. That hurt dully, but he put it to the back of his mind and just looked up. He couldn’t see much passed the street lights and climbing buildings, but he could see sky. Dark, deep, violet sky. He was so wrapped up in just how fucking _deep_ it looked that he hadn’t noticed the man exiting the club and making his way over to him until he said something.

    “Hey.”

    Keith rolled his head and looked over to see Shiro leaning against the wall afoot and a half away from him.

    “Oh,” Keith muttered. “Hi.”

    “Lance was looking for you,” Shiro confided lightly. He didn’t sound so drunk, Keith thought. Then again, he might have been playing the responsible adult for the evening and he was actually sober. It’d make sense, Keith conceded. “He couldn’t find you at the bar.”

    “I came up for air,” Keith told him as an explanation.

    Shiro nodded understandingly. “Yeah, I get that. Do you want to come back in? I think we were just fixing to gather everyone up.”

    Keith frowned. “Katie wants to go home?” he asked. It was her birthday, shouldn’t she get to decide when it is they go?

    Shiro laughed quietly, letting it rumble in his chest, reverberating through the air. “Pidge is passed out. Hunk’s got her,” he explained. “So, she’s going whether she wants to or not.”

    “She just fell asleep?” Keith asked incredulously.

    Shiro nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “It’s almost two and she got still on a comfy couch. She didn’t stand a chance, honestly.”

    Keith quirked his lips and nodded his head. “Guess that makes sense,” he granted. “Where are we going after this?”

    Shiro shrugged. “We might stop by and get some kind of food before we start getting everybody to their respective houses. I know Lance is going to want to stay in at Pidge and Matt’s house, but we’ll be able to drop you and Hunk off at your places. You’d be welcome to stay the night at Pidge and Matt’s, if you wanted, though. She told me to be sure to tell you that.”

    Keith plucked his phone out of his back pocket and clicked at the home button. The sudden bright screen had him flinching back a bit, shying away from the light. It was just before two in the morning. The drinks had stopped being served and everyone had begun to start to filter out of the club. With the sudden trickling out of the club came the quartet that was missing from their group. Hunk carried Katie piggyback while Matthew and Lance seemed to be hanging all over each other, supporting the other from falling flat on their face.

    “Yooo, man there you are!” Lance called when he caught sight of Keith. “Where’d you go, man? We thought you ran off!” The frown on his face looked grossly overexaggerated, but Keith felt himself mirroring the expression.

    “I’ve been here with Shiro,” he said, gesturing to the older man.

    That seemed to ease Lance’s worried expression as he dipped his head in a wise motion. He was completely straight faced until Matt stepped wrong and the two of them were almost sent tumbling to the ground. Their only saving grace was Lance, who managed to stay standing long enough for Matt to claw himself back up to his feet. He straightened up his shirt and windbreaker and cleared his throat like the trip was but a minor lapse in judgement on his part. He looked damn near sober for a minute before he was bursting into giggles again, pushing up his glasses with the back of a shaky hand.

    He leaned against Lance, who had his head tipped against the arm Katie was dangling off of one of Hunk’s broad shoulders. Hunk, who was looking at Shiro like he was pleading with a parent. “So are we going to go eat, or what?” he asked.

    Matt’s face brightened and he released Lance and moved to lean against the wall next to his soulmate. “Oooh, Takashi, baby, can we?” he asked, his smile bright and wide as he tugged at the material of Shiro’s thin sleeve.

    Shiro seemed to consider this, looking around the little circle they had formed. “You all know that Pidge is knocked out, right?” he asked, eyebrow cocked as a questioning father.

    Matt shrugged, jostling Shiro’s arm that he had hooked with his own. “Girl’s own fault, bae. She fell asleep so she gets no food.”

    Shiro snorted at him. “You do realize how hard it’s going to be, taking her everywhere we go, right?”

    It was Hunk this time. “I got her man,” he said, readjusting his hold on her dangling legs as if showing the young adult off to the circle. “C’mooonnn,” Hunk tried.

    Shiro sighed, looking to Keith. “Do you want to go home or come and get food with us?” he asked.

    Keith worried at his bottom lip, glancing around the group of actors before shrugging. “I could eat.”

    “Awesome!” Lance said, popping his fist in the air, grinning against the bare skin of Katie’s arm. “Where are we gonna go?”

         Finding the iHOP shouldn’t have been hard. Not with the car Shiro called, the one that they magically fit all six of them into the small space. But from there, when the driver asked where they were headed, the drunken passengers decided to get involved with Shiro’s calm, collected, _sensible_ directions. It went from the nearest iHOP to “Hey! Maybe I wanted to go to Wendy’s. Or In and Out!” and then to “Which iHOP are me going to!? There’s one in Santa Monica!” to “Matthew, we are not going to Santa Monica.”

    Keith was tempted to just huddle down into Pidge at his side and fall asleep, much like her. The buzz was dwindling at an incredibly fast pace. He tipped his head atop the young woman’s head leaned on his shoulder and blew out a little sigh, running his hand along the upper part of his thigh. The bickering was going on in the front of the car while Hunk and Keith, with Pidge between them were just ready to go find any old place to eat.

    Finally, they were settled once again, on the nearest iHOP. Minutes after that, they were all heading into the lit up building nearing fifteen to three in the morning, no one but Shiro able to walk a perfect straight line and with a still unconscious Pidge in Hunk’s arms.

    They took two booths, directly across the aisles from each other, Shiro and Matt in one with Pidge leaning into Shiro’s side while the other three occupied the other booth. Keith was slumped over the table, squinting at the plastic covered menu, looking over all of his options while Lance read the exact same ones aloud, across the table from where he sat in between the wall of the booth and his platonic.

    “I’m getting chicken and waffles,” Hunk said, glancing over everything with the eyes of one Keith recognized as a professional. He knew what was good and what would be perfect for any occasion. Much like a snobby wine connoisseur, or something like that, Keith thought.

    “I’m… getting…” Lance hummed dramatically, looking over the menu like he was trying to solve a complicated math problem when all he knew was basic addition and subtraction. He looked like he was about to get a headache. Or burst a blood vessel. Hey, maybe both. “Fuck, I don’t know,” he breathed out. He set his menu down and took up a fork. With one hand holding the menu steady (in his defense, it had begun to wobble a little bit. Keith saw it. He’d testify), Lance brought the pronged utensil down with the intention to stab at an option for pancakes. He didn’t mean to stab full force at the back of his hand. With a yelp, the fork clattered to the table top and Lance was cradling his hand to his chest. Keith looked up at the noise. It took him a minute to connect all of the dots that lay before him, but when he did, his eyebrows pinched in concern and he was reaching his hand across the table.

    Hunk got there first, and as gently as he could, he took Lance’s wrist into his hand and brought the injured hand out so he could inspect it. “It was your own fault, dude, why would you not look where you stab?” he asked, grabbing a napkin or two to dab at the tiny droplets of blood that welled up on Lance’s hand.

    Hands spluttered indignantly. “Why would I _look_ where I was going? If I did, then I would have had a bias in my order!”

    Hunk seemed to be confused at this. “Then why don’t you just order your bias?” he asked, completely bewildered.

    Lance rolled his eyes, his entire head rotating with the movement. “Because I don’t know if I want my bias or not, duh!”

    “Wh- Why? Lance, what?” Hunk asked, eyes narrowed in confusion.

    “Keith, what’re you getting?” Lance asked, looking across the table to Keith’s menu like he was cheating on a test. Keith shrugged.

    “I dunno,” he admitted. “Pancakes?” It seemed reasonable, after all. They were in the International House of Pancakes for Chrissakes!

    Lance just rolled his eyes. “Bor- _ring_ ,” he sighed. “I’m getting an omelet.”

    Keith yawned, covering his mouth with a fisted hand. “I’ma be basic as shit and just get pancakes, still,” he said, blinking away the drowsiness collecting at the corners of his eyes. “Like, what the shit this is a pancake house what more do you need, you know?”

    “Syrup and butter,” Hunk said as he inspected his menu again. He scraped a fingernail over a sticky spot, saying something about messy people just before the waiter came to take their orders.

    Keith’s plain buttermilk pancakes came along shortly after everyone’s orders had been filled. Keith was left to pass up a glass of milk for one of orange juice, but otherwise, no hiccups were found. Shiro got a takeaway box of birthday pancakes for her to eat for breakfast the next morning and Matt put most of his glazed strawberries into the box with it.

    Another hour of goofing around with pancakes and Lance complaining about the sticky syrup containers and the small flecks of pancake batter on his omelet (“How did it even GET there!?”), it was well after three in the morning by the time another Lyft (Shiro’s treat this time) to arrive and for them all to go about their ways to drop everyone out at their respective living spaces.

    Keith was first, it seemed, because soon he was standing outside his door with Lance. He whispered good night and stepped forward to give Lance a warm hug, exhaling against his shoulder (and definitely not inhaling his cologne).

    “I was worried,” Lance mumbled against his cheek. “I couldn’t find you back at the bar, I got worried.”

    Keith gave a little sigh, more to himself than not. “Sorry,” he gasped out. “I didn’t mean to make you worry. I just needed air, you know? I was… having issues, I guess.” He pulled back and gave Lance a watery little smile.

    Lance nodded. “It’s okay.” His assurance let the little knot of worry in Keith’s chest unravel a bit, coming apart little loop by loop. Lance gave him a smile. It was drooped down at the edges, from exhaustion and the effort to keep his balance between his feet and the hallway. “We’ve all got our issues.”

    The little phrase had Keith pausing. Had he heard that before? He seemed to recall it. Then, _who_ was the one that had told him that? He couldn’t pull a name or a face to the forefront of his mind and the thought was left to wiggle around, bothering and nagging him at his inability to figure out the little riddle he had made for himself.

    Lance didn’t seem to notice, as he had taken to inspecting the potted plant at the corner of the hallway from afar, scrutinizing the rubbery leaves with squinted, nearly shut eyes. Suddenly he blinked, seemingly jerking back to himself. He murmured something in Spanish before looking back at Keith. He offered a smile.

    “We’ve got an eight o’clock flight later,” Lance mumbled. He brought his hand up and tapped lightly across Keith’s chest, from his collarbone up to his shoulder, which he gripped lightly. “I’m not goin’ ta sleep. I’m just gonna sleep the fuck out of the ride there and the flight over and then the hotel.” He gave a careless smile that illuminated his entire face, tilting his head to the side a bit. “I’m gonna _die_ , man. Full on. Death awaits me.”

    Keith let his head fall back against the doorjamb, leaning his shoulder against it as well. “Then why’d you guys do the whole,” he brought a hand up and waved it demonstratively, “birthday party tonight, then?”

    “I mean, why go play craps in Vegas when we could all go clubbing at home, taking only my _favorite_ romantic soulmate in the world with us?” Lance shot back, a cheeky smirk in place.

    Keith let out a laugh which was much more like a breath and, like Lance had, trailed his hand slowly up to Lance’s shoulder where it drifted slowly to cup at Lance’s cheek. There was a blink, a little flutter of eyelashes that Lance watched intently. Owlishly, Lance let his on eyelids slide closed and shut. With a small _oh_ between them, he pulled back.

    “Shiro’s waiting fa’me,” he suddenly informed Keith, as if he didn’t already know. Keith nodded absently, now looking at the same plant Lance had before. “I’d give you a kiss goodnight, but I dunno if you’d want one or not and I don’t wanna get rejected, you know what I’m saying? Of course you know.” Lance waved his hand in a wide manner and began to push off the wall next to Keith’s door. He tried to regain balance. He almost did before the toe of his left shoe caught on the heel of his right one. He exclaimed loudly, just a mess of syllables that weren’t really words at all before he was beginning to fall to the ground. Keith made a little sound before he reached out and caught Lance by the arm, trying to steady him.

    “Are you okay?” Keith asked, pulling Lance upright so he could stand on his own. He was still holding onto him, standing too close for everything Keith had decided on earlier on, but right now, these decisions said “fuck it” as he was there in the swirling warmth of Lance. His smell, his body heat, his beautiful lips, they were all right there, available to Keith if he would just ask.

    That was the little realization that led him to lean in and press a small kiss to Lance’s check, just above the corner of his mouth. “There’s your good night kiss,” he whispered to his soulmate, who was quite frankly, awestricken.

    Lance blinked rapidly, his mouth opening before quickly snapping shut. “Thanks?” he asked.

    Keith gave him a smile. “Do you need help getting down to the garage?” Keith asked, glancing down the long hall.

    Lance hummed and suddenly jolted like Keith snapped him out of a sudden trance. “What? Nah, no. That’s no problem. I jus’ gotta…” He glanced down the hallway much like Keith was doing. “Walk down there an’ press a button. No big dealio.” He shrugged carelessly, fanning his hands out in the air. “I mean, it’s whatever man. You can go in, it’s chill.” his fingers made little ‘shoo, shoo’ motions that had Keith nodded, saying his last good nights before he turned to unlock and open his door. He gave Lance one last, hook of a smile before he was slipping into the dim apartment. “G’night to you too!” Lance called out just before the door was shut.

    Keith toed off his shoes and tripped carefully into his dark home, completely unaware of how his soulmate slumped against the door, rubbing his fingertips over his cheek, a smile on his face that wouldn’t fade until the morning light came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back at it again with the nerd-y chapter titles. I'm being a theater nerd this time, though (Honestly what's changed)
> 
> So tell me: how do I earn the "angst" tag I put up if I keep ending stuff with fluff?? How do I rip your hearts out like I'm a dreaded Ice Queen if I'm too soft hearted on the inside??? All you angst writers out there, please, guide me in your ways. I've grown soft since I started writing fluff.
> 
> Thank you @Mikiri for beta-ing this! I appreciate it so, so, so much.
> 
> I am posting this a day early. From now on, I will be posting on Sunday. The reason I'm posting early is bc I've heard a lot of talk about there being really bad weather coming up - like ice and sleet and shit. This usually means I loose power, and with that, internet access. I just really wanted you guys to get an update just incase my power actually does get cut out. I'm crossing my fingers hoping it doesn't, though.
> 
> Please drop me a comment, I love them dearly! I'm on [tumblr](http://youngtiredandhungry.tumblr.com/), you can visit me on my personal one or my [voltron](https://goddammitlance.tumblr.com/) one. Hit me up! I am completely down to talk about anything related to the precious space family! (Speaking of them, the next time I update season two will be out! I am so very excited)


	22. Does it snow in Nevada? Because I’m cold without you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lancevofficial: First of all, I would like to thank Jesus who gave me this soulmate---

(Day 0: Take off) Sunday, June 26th

         As predicted, the morning after was pure, unfiltered, unadulterated Hell.

    Airport security should be its own circle of Hell, is what Lance believed as he stood there, in line for forever and a half, sunglasses resting high on the bridge of his nose, hands clutching his plane ticket and the straps of his backpack. A headache echoed in his brain cavity, like a legion of soldiers marching to pounding war drums. He felt sluggish and a hell of a lot like sleeping. His mouth tasted like old alcohol and a orange Powerade Pidge had provided all of them with when she had woken up from her sweet hangover-less sleep.

Ugh. Damn kids these days.

    “Lance, smile!”

    The man looked up just in time for him to see Pidge, phone in hand as she took a picture, flash searing into his pupils like holy water on a demon.

    His hand flew to cover his eyes and he winced away with a hissed curse. “God _ dammit _ , Pidge! Fuck off and leave me alone!”

    She smirked as she tapped through her phone, looking up to him and paying no attention to what she was tapping. “It’s not my fault that you got drunk off your ass and now you’re hungover.”

    A quick flip of the bird left Pidge cackling, but turning back to her phone.

    Jesus Christ. It was going to be a long flight.

         And it was. Or, at least it seemed that way. In reality, the flight was all of an hour and six minutes. An hour and six minutes that Lance used to complete and file away dozens of reasons concerning why getting unapologetically smashed the night (that technically never even ended) before a morning flight that wasn’t even long enough to take a nap on was a fucking bad idea.

    Number one: Everyone was loud. Even in his party of hungover actors (excluding Pidge and another castmate of theirs, Rax. The two of them were as chipper as a goddamn squirrel on a sugar high with an acorn) he got no rest. Hunk was across from him, saying something about Advil and how it seemingly doesn’t even work, despite Matt’s promises that “It totally does! My headache is leaving.”

    Number two: Lance found himself leaning out of his seat multiple times, looking down the aisle to where he knew the small bathroom was going to be as he silently debated whether the rolling in his stomach was going to overtake him like an ocean wave, or simply simmer down to a manageable level. He, for one, did  _ not _ want to spend the remainder of the flight dry-heaving into an airplane toilet.

    There were several more reasons he could list off, including how he couldn’t get the window shade to properly slide down, leaving a little stream of sunlight into his vicinity in an unwelcome fashion, or about how he was oh so tempted to ask the nice flight attendant for one of those tiny bottles of alcohol to soothe everything over. By the time the flight was landing, Lance was pretty sure he could write a book on the whole ordeal. 

    “I’m just saying,” Pidge started off (again) after they had disembarked from the airplane, carryon bags in hand. Lance was beginning to consider taking back his ultra-special birthday toast because she couldn’t drop things like subjects. And her voice. “You guys should seriously think about getting some self-control. Look at Shiro over there. He’s all, you know.” She made a pose, all still and rigid like a soldier, copying her Platonic almost perfectly. “Sober. And not regretting life choices.”

    Lance rolled his eyes so hard his head hurt.

Or really… he just moved his eyes a little… and his headache got worse. Goddamnit.

    “We all know that if Shiro wasn’t with us last night than you’d be worse than Matt over there.” Matt, who had disappeared into the men’s room some moments before.

    Pidge nodded her head. “True,” she granted. “But he was there. And I got an amazing sleep last night. My mind is clear, my judgements true and funnily enough, I remember you dirty dancing with Keith on the dance floor. Nice, my friend. If I had taken my phone last night I could have recorded the whole thing!” She clicked her fingers mournfully and readjusted her backpack. It was all canvas patches and NASA themes.  _ I want to believe _ being a repeating phrase in a cluster of pins and patches surrounding a large, round iron-on  _ Definitely A Space Kid _ patch in navy blues and purple stitching.

    Lance flushed, looking down to his wristwatch for an excuse to cheat his face away from the young woman. “Anyway,” he muttered. “It’s like, Shut-Up-o’clock. So.” He held a finger up over his lips. “Shhh time.”

    “You can’t silence me,” Pidge warned, a dangerous look in her eyes. “The truth will get out!” She left him with that, walking over to the duo of Hunk and Shiro, who were contemplating if they needed to go and check on Matt or not.

    Lance, in turn, merely spluttered out his words. “Wh- well what’s that supposed to mean?!” he cried before wincing back at his own volume. “What ‘truth’? There’s no lies here!”

    Pidge just shot him a look over her shoulder as he followed after, wondering if it was her not making sense or if it was actually his own muddled mind.

-

(Day 1) Monday, June 27th

         Turns out that Pidge’s bragging streak was short lived.

    A day later brought a newer, fresher Lance. He was fully recovered after a well-deserved nap and a refreshing shower. He was back in perfect working order by the time they were being transported from their hotel in Vegas to the El Dorado Dry Lake Bed. It was… dry. And hot. And there was so much sun, coming down in thick, comfortable waves that warmed Lance’s body inside and out. Obviously, it was going to be those things. It was in the middle of a dessert, after all. Lance knew it was going to be like this. Hunk knew this. Hell, they all knew this.

It was a fucking desert.

    Apparently Pidge wasn’t made aware of the memo, because all that puffed out chest, sober, “Wow, I’m so much higher than thou drunk dumbasses,” all melted away pretty quickly. She was left in her tank top, cursing Apollo at the top of her lungs as her skin turned pink. Literally. She fell to her bare knees on the dry, hot ground and flung her arms out, screaming “Fuck you, Apollo!” as she did so. Rax took a drink of his water down the wrong pipe and, swear to God, it looked like he almost  _ died _ .

    The poor flower child burns easily, Lance found out. And thus was when Pidge’s taunting streak ended… and Lance’s began.

    “Aww,  _ honey _ ,” he cooed, clicking off the cap of a can of sunscreen. “Can’t have you getting  _ burnt _ , now could we?” She shot him a glare that meant death, but he paid her no mind, only began to spray down her arms and shoulders. “Poor lil’ baby Pidge, getting all-”

    “Lance, I’m going to murder you.”

[Tweet: Got smacked down in the desert today just because I was trying to help a bro out… @katiefay why do you hate me??? :\\]

-

(Day 6) Saturday, July 2nd

         Skype rang four times before Lance accepted the call. A smile pulled at Keith’s mouth at the sight of his soulmate.

    “Hey,” Lance breathed. He looked tired in small ways, the small droop of his eyelids and the lull of his head as he leaned against the headboard of the hotel bed.

    “Hi,” Keith grinned, tilting the screen back on his laptop so he could lift himself out of his desk chair. “How was your day? You look like you’re ready to pass out.” It was a tease, but Lance met it with a laugh.

    “Had a long day. We just got in like an hour ago.” Lance pulled the blankets up and over the arm that wasn’t holding his phone. He cocked his head and smiled wearily.

    “Oh.” Keith worried at his lips. “Well, if you want to just head to bed, we can say good night.”

    Lance just shook his head, slowly, but determined. “No. No, I wanna talk to you. We haven’t been able to talk, and I wanna know what’s up. How have you been? What’ve you been doin’?”

    Keith made a face and turned back to his bed. He pulled the fitted sheet up from the pile of blankets and sheets on the floor. “Packing up the apartment,” he told Lance as he started to put the sheet on his mattress. “Mostly the living areas and stuff, right now. I’ll get my room and the kitchen packed up a little closer to the end of the month.”

    Lance hummed. He sat up and rubbed at his eyes. “And how’s the apartment hunting going?”

    Keith’s nose scrunched up. “God, don’t remind me.” He finished tucking in the corners of his sheet before he sat heavily down on the edge of his mattress. “Good apartments are fucking expensive and out of my price range while the shitty ones are something I can afford but they’re - well - shit.”

    “You can just stay at mine for a while,” Lance offered. “There’s plenty of room. Probably too much, anyway.”

    Keith snorted as he got up and took up the next sheet. “You’d hate living with me,” Keith told him, only half joking.

    “Listen,” Lance said, a fond smile tugging at his mouth. “If I could share a room with Jamie, who’s six years younger than me and a mess of an individual, then I’m pretty sure I can room with anybody.”

    “Apparently you’ve never lived with an art student,” Keith mused. “All the one’s I’ve lived with push the free expression vs. good impressions trope to the fucking limit.” He finally picked up the deep red comforter and spread it out. “Chalk butts everywhere. Paint tubes and rulers in every imaginable crevice. Just imagine.”

    Lance shrugged a shoulder on the screen. “No prob, it’s all chill. Just make sure the house is clean enough for my weekly in-house rave, alright? I’ve got a reputation to uphold. The Lance-master’s good name won’t be soiled by a dirty house”

    Keith laughed at Lance’s pretty fair ‘cocky douchebag’ voice. “Will do. I’ll remember that.” Keith moved to drop into his desk chair. He adjusted the screen before he said anything else to his sleepy soulmate. Lance’s head was basically rolling on his shoulders, though in small movements. “Okay, Aurora, get to bed. You’re about to pass out.”

    Lance made an unhappy sound. “I have several points,” he mumbled, making eye contact with Keith. “First off, the fuck? I’m already in bed. Second, okay, Aurora didn’t wanna be Sleeping Beauty. Fate just dealt her a shit hand and her parents were cheapskates who couldn’t afford a thirteenth gold plate. And third, okay? I’m  _ not _ fallin’ asleep. I’m doing just fi-i-,” he cut himself off with a loud, stretching yawn he tried to cover with the back of his hand. He settled back in and smacked his lips a couple of times. “Fine. Just fine.”

    “Lance, you’re practically snoring.”

    A puff of air left Lance’s chest with a great heaving of his shoulders. “Alright, fine,” he relented. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, alright?”

    Keith grinned at him. “Sleep well,” he said, his tone clearly very fond. “See you tomorrow.”

    “Mnm.” Lance gave a little thumbs up. “You sleep good too, Kei.”

The call disconnected, leaving Keith with a bright blue screen and a comfy bed to hop into.

-

(Day 9) Wednesday, July 6th

    “So I just got to the location about an hour ago and we’re getting ready to get my hair and makeup done,” Lance said, thumping from one tent to the next. The sun shone on his shoulders and the back of his neck left uncovered by his tank top. “We’ve got a full day ahead of us.” He gave a dry laugh as he went, making his way to a trailer some feet away. He looked a little tired, with the way his eyes weren’t even fully opened, just squinting out into the sunrise. “It’s still a bit chilly over here.” His musing was met with a chorus of comments asking if he had a jacket or blankets - just generally if he was keeping warm enough. “Don’t you guys worry, I’m doing just fine.” He spent a little wink as he finally came to the trailer.

    Two steps up and he was in the door, looking around the decently lit trailer, to the two occupied swivel chairs in front of the mirrors and the last one empty, waiting for him.

    “Good morning all,” he sang lightly, bringing the eyes of all to him. “Say hello, Matt,” Lance advised, pulling his phone to find Matthew in the chair next to the one he made himself comfortable in.

    Matt twisted his seat a little, though careful not to disturb the woman with hands in his hair. “Hello, Matt,” he replied cheekily, a grin on his face. A groan was heard further down and Lance pointed the camera to the mirror so he could catch a glance of Rax rolling his eyes to high heaven, his makeup was all of half done. The comment stream went from mentioning Matt to a few people (and more than a few exclamation points and emojis) shouting about Rax.

    “Aw, Rax, they love you.” Lance switched the camera so he could capture Rax in the frame. The man brightened instantly, sitting a little straighter in his chair.

    “G’mornin’ everyone,” he greeted. “Lance, I’m surprised you have signal out here. Mine’s barely working.”

    Lance made a little noise. “It hasn’t been. My signal is worst than Matt’s jokes.”

    “I resemble that statement,” Matt sniffed.

    “Case in point,” Rax said, pointing an accusing finger to the Holt.

    Lance switched the camera to rear facing as the two went about in a good natured bicker. He leaned his elbow against the chair’s armrest and propped his chin atop his palm. His other hand still held the camera. “It’s really bummin’ me out though,” he confided in the fans on the other side of the stream. “It’s all that time I can’t let you guys in on our days as much as I want to.” Blue eyes flicked around the screen, looking at the endless pillar of comments feeding in. He saw one and smiled gently, teething at his lip. “‘Ro451’ said ‘lol, I bet you just miss your soulmate’.” He nodded honestly. “Yup. I do. A  _ whole _ lo t.”

    He was interrupted by an incessant cooing to his right. He glanced up to find Matt reaching out his hand for Lance to take, carefully avoiding the woman doing his hair. Play sniffling, Lance switched the camera front-facing and took Matt’s hand. The Holt wore an overly solemn look.

    “I bet it sucks so much not being able to see your soulmate each and everyday like I do,” he said, nodding like he understood exactly what Lance was going through.

   Lance all but screeched as he batted Matt’s hand away from his own.

-

(Day 12) Saturday, July 9th

[the video starts off facing Keith, who is smiling. His hair is in a messy ponytail and has a fake flower stuck in the dark strands.

    “Alright, holy shit. Guys, look at this! Look.” The camera shook as Keith pulled a package up into the frame. “I’m honestly so excited. Last week, Tuesday, I think. It was two in the morning and I was on Amazing, looking through wide angled lenses when I stumbled across this thing.” He shook the box a bit. “And I fucking bought it right up. I can’t afford a wide angle lense for a while,” he shrugged, “but hey, this is so fucking neat.”

    He made quick work of opening the box, taking a sharp knife to the tape. He pulled out soft looking packing material and tossed it aside. Within moments, he pulled out another box, revealing a Polaroid camera. It was small, a new model in baby blue.

    “I can now reach ‘amatuer wannabe photographer’ status despite me actually being a photography minor.” He gave a cheeky smirk to the camera. “I’m going to go open this, now - so, eh…” The shot ends in a blur as Keith shuts off the camera.]

    Lance bit lightly at his knuckle in a very Leo DiCaprio style, making a little high sound in the back of his throat, oblivious to the looks Hunk and Pidge were giving him.

    Pidge rolled up from her position on the bed, lying flat on her back, and took the time to clap Lance on the shoulder. “Nine days, man. And then you can go sweep your man off his feet.”

    Lance looked up from his phone to the young woman. “What do you mean?” he asked, eyebrow cocked.

    Pidge sighed, patted his back. “Don’t worry, kid. You’ll understand what I mean when you’re older.” She flopped back to lay on her stomach beside Hunk.

    “And what is that supposed to mean, oh wise one!?” he demanded, pushing himself up to his elbows. He looked behind himself at her and his own Platonic in bewilderment.

    Hunk shook his head and finished off his vitamin water. “You know what it means, dude,” he told Lance. “We both know that you know what it means.”

    Lance made a face. “And if I don’t?”

   Hunk snorted and Pidge let loose a dejected sigh. “Then you’re being really dense,” Hunk confided as he reached across the bed for another snack bar.

-

(Day 16) Wednesday, July 13th

_ Keith: _ I GOT AN APARTMENT

_ Keith: _ LOW INCOME HOUSING INITIATIVE IS WHAT THE WOMAN SAID

_ Keith: _ IT’S AFFORDABLE AND SPACIOUS AND THERE IS SO MUCH LIGHT

_ Keith: _ I SIGNED THE PAPERS AND WE’RE GOOD TO GO NOW I JUST HAVE TO MOVE IN AND IT LOOKS SO GOOD LANCE YOU WILL. NOT. BELIEVE.

    The texts were delivered late, just after Lance had gotten done shooting for the day. His phone vibrated in his pocket as soon as they got on the road away from the lake bed. They were being taken back to the hotel, with Rax in the front, Hunk in one of the single seats across from Lance while Pidge was in the backseat by herself, tapping away at a laptop. The others were in a separate van on the road ahead of them.

    As soon as Lance pulled his phone from his pocket and lit up the screen, he was grinning, inhaling sharply in excitement. He unlocked his screen and went to the messages. He gave a silent cheer to the news, apparently drawing enough attention so that Hunk leaned over to see what the fuss was about.

    Hunk prodded at his shoulder and Lance showed his phone to his Platonic. “He found an apartment,” he summarized, his smile coloring his words.

    Hunk’s approval was drowned out by shifting in the backseat. Pidge put her laptop aside and leaned forward to wrap her arm around Lance’s headrest. “Who found an apartment?” she asked curiously, eyes looking at the screen Lance quickly held to his chest.

    “Keith did,” he told her.

    She hummed thoughtfully, tilting her head to the side. A smirk decorated her face after a split second, a scheme apparently taking root in her mind. “So are you going to get him flowers?” she asked teasingly, prodding his shoulder with an index finger. “Lil’ housewarming gift? Huh? You gonna?”

    Lance spluttered, pushing her back to sit down by way of a palm on her forehead. She fell with a huff, though her eyes still held that gleam they had a moment ago.

    “Of course I am,” he sniffed. Well, now he was, since he was thinking about it. He was originally thinking along the lines of waiting until he got back so that he bring some sort of bouquet personally (he wanted to see the surprise in Keith’s eyes for himself. You can’t get that over some singing telegram delivery service), but then again… A little surprise bouquet of roses never went amiss. Well… maybe not roses. Something else. Something with a little more meaning, perhaps.

_ Lance: _ THAT’S FANTASTIC! What’s your address??? Im making my way over as soon as i get back

    He was texting his PA as soon as the text with Keith’s address came in, grinning widely as he imagined what Keith’s reaction would be when he later received them.

-

(Day 17) Thursday, July 17th

    The picture caught Lance’s breath and scarcely let him breathe again.

_ I got a housewarming gift. _

    It was those words that haunted Lance’s being, flushing his cheeks out and making him want to utter an embarrassing noise from his throat.

    It was those accursed words that made the Instagram post seem casual, how Keith smiled teasingly with the end of the pink camellia sticking out of his teeth so that it drooped down to the countertop at which Keith sat. The knuckles to Keith’s right hand propping up his chin, showing off part of his Soulmark as he did. Casual. Not like he was enticing Lance into falling blindly in love with him. Nah, definitely nothing like that.

    God, Lance was  _ suffering _ .

_ Lancevofficial: _ First of all, I would like to thank Jesus who gave me this soulmate---

-

(Day 19) Saturday, July 16th

    So, Lance has seen a lot of tweets. It was just a thing that was a constant in his life. He was regularly on the Twitter app on his phone, keeping up with current events, replying to a few of his fan’s mentions… yeah, he was on a lot.

    But lately, there was one profile he checked first, every day, without fail, and that was Keith’s. There wasn’t a whole lot of activity on the page, granted, but it was the most interesting thing to Lance on the app by far. Keith was trying to get a little more used to actually tweeting things besides complaints about the Subway employee that gave him the stinkeye. There were the occasional pictures that were independent of getting cross-posted to his Instagram, where his finished products resided. Messy paint brushes with dirty hands were a constant. There were retweets of small videos on mixing paint. The kind that definitely counted as an aesthetic when it was all smoothed out by the knife.

    Lance was surprised, when he had first tapped on the “tweets and replies” bit at the top of the page that Keith was very interactive with his followers, tweeting at and replying to many of his mentions. His “works in progress” seemed to be his most popular type of tweet, featuring his small comments concerning small screw-ups on the page or canvas.

    Lance had actually giggled aloud at one of the posts. It was of the small page of a sketchbook, a small graphite sketch of a plate. A plain plate, mostly a practice of ellipses and the little engraved design on the dinnerware. It was soft, with careful strokes all up until there was a dark, straight gash from the tip of the pencil right up the center of the page.  _ “Landlord knocked and scared the shit out of me… no mistakes, all happy accidents my ass.” _ Lance reblogged that one, leaving lots of happy, laughing emojis in his wake.

    It was cute, scrolling down Keith’s Twitter. It made Lance’s chest heavy, and he wasn’t going to deny it. He missed him. And yes, sure, they had their phones and could constantly keep in contact with one another but it just wasn’t… the same. Or enough. There was a little pang in Lance’s chest that wanted to hear Keith’s voice in his ear, feel him next to him. He drew the line when his thoughts travelled to a different little rabbit trail. The ones that whispered that he wanted Keith not just next to him, but  _ against _ him. Held tight in his arms.

    Yes, he made the effort to stop that train right at the station. He flung the phone behind him to land at the head of the hotel bed. His hands rubbed over his face and gave a great sound he couldn’t really describe.

    Two more days. That’s all until he’d be back in California. It felt like a decade.

-

(Day 22: Arrival) Tuesday, July 19th

_ Lance: _ Meet me in the upper bridge-y thingie in the upstairs @ 2:30 i’ll get there as soon as my baggage gets picked up via amazing service provided by our producers

    That’s the very text that brought Keith to  the very same upper bridge-y thingie, rocking on his heels, little box digging into his sweaty palm as he waited. His nose twitched and he debated going to blow it quickly in the bathroom before disposing of the idea. What if he got back and Lance was waiting for  _ him _ ? Too risky. Better dealing with the little twitch and waiting patiently.

    He looked at the gift in his palm, debating with himself on the matter if only for the fifteenth time. Keith thought that maybe he really  _ didn’t _ want that wide lense for his camera after all, if all these impulse purchases were anything to go off of. It totally wasn’t just his fault this time. Well, he figured, this one had a little more ground than the Polaroid did, at least his reasons for buying it were a little better than “It’s for the aesthetic.”

    In any case, Keith just hoped that these impulse buys wouldn’t be a regular thing. The deposits for the new apartment weren’t fucking cheap and there were bills to pay.

    He sucked on the inside of his cheek and looked up to the glass ceiling and the clear blue sky above.

_ Shhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit _ , Keith thought as his eyes flicked from glass panel to glass panel, still bouncing on his heels, though it was a bit more contained now. There was a little flippant feeling in his gut that wiggled and chewed and made him want to shiver in anticipation. Maybe he ate something funky earlier… maybe the peanut butter that he found in the back of the fridge had been expired? Oh boy that’d be rich. He thought that peanut butter was like the ultimate apocalypse food, supposed to last for centuries.

    Oh, maybe it had something to do with hitting the gym earlier. But then again, he had gotten better at keeping his gym schedule since Lance left (it was something to do, something that filled the time usually occupied by Lance), so he really couldn’t see it being from that, since he’d once again slipped into his workout routine without distraction.

    Okay, so if honesty was a thing Keith was being held to, he knew it wasn’t a rather intense leg day, or a jar of peanut butter that happened to be older than their collective time at the apartment he had shared with Julie. It was from the, well,  _ really obvious _ place of-

    “Keith!”

Him.

    Lance was jogging to him, Keith found, when he turned around. He had a beanie on, and a hood over that - plus a pair of sunglasses on his face that were much, much too big. Keith knew it was to protect him from some sort of fan mob, but I mean, obviously he didn’t really care about attracting attention to himself when he was literally running and  _ shouting _ in the airport.

    But again, if honesty is a theme of the moment, Keith didn’t care either, because he was running too, a mess of syllables falling from his mouth as he rushed to the strong arms that would be thrown around his shoulders.

    The hug was tight, but not quite as tight as how Keith’s chest felt. All of a sudden his ribs felt locked too tight around his lungs and his heart was beating too fast to be healthy.

    “How was Nevada?” Keith asked, his voice muffled by the bubble coat Lance wore.

    Lance made a dismissive sound. “Little hot, lotta’ work.” That was the end of his answer and then he was pulling back with his hands on Keith’s shoulders. “How’s your apartment? Are you all unpacked and settled in?”

   Keith made a face and scrunched up his nose in distaste. “There’s so much stuff cluttering up my apartment right now,” he told him. “I’m about to start using boxes as furniture.”

    Lance grinned in amusement. “Oh come on, that cannot be comfortable.” And Keith winced at that because  _ oh, how he knew _ how uncomfortable a cardboard box was when it was accidentally tripped over, leaving one to fall almost face-first onto the tile of a bathroom floor. “I take it by that face you’ve already tried it,” Lance mused, looking closely at Keith.

    “Er, you can say that,” he laughed. He swallowed and clenched his hand a little, feeling the corners of the box dig into his palm. He debated shoving the thing into his jacket pocket for a moment before steeling his resolve and clearing his throat. “I got you something.” He held out his hand, presenting the gift to his soulmate with its  pearl-colored wrapping.

    Lance took the box from his soulmate with a little frown, his fingers brushing against Keith’s. “What's this for? There wasn’t some special occasion, was there? I didn’t miss some kind of special gift-giving-festivity, have I?" Lance asked, a note of worry in his voice as he looked down at the little package.

    Keith bit his lip and shook his head. “No, nothing like that, trust me,” Keith assured him with calming hands. “It's just that…” Here we go. The ol’ ‘practiced this in the bathroom’ speech. “Lance, you're a good person. Hell, an amazing soulmate. I'm like, the luckiest person alive to have you. It might not seem like that's my opinion most days, but it really is. And I’m so glad I met you. And I’m sorry that sometimes it feels like I’m being a dick, I’m not trying to, it’s just…”

    Keith took a deep breath, “It’s that before I met you, you were this shiny, unobtainable person, but that was before the timers did their thing and suddenly you were put right there in front of me. And suddenly you, just as shiny and desirable, are now accessible to me and you’re  _ there _ .” Keith felt himself grinning. “Literally  _ there _ , as an engaged part of my life. And now you’re real, and a possibility and you shine as bright as the sun, I swear. Some days… I dunno, I guess I just don’t know how to process that? Especially when I'd always kind of suspected that you were an actor brat.” That earned a little laugh from Lance and Keith laughed along breathily. “But you're a real live person, who is like the best person I've ever met and that's really weird some days." Keith rubbed at the short hairs at the nape of his neck, halting the flow of words abruptly. 

    "Point is, I know I blow hot and cold concerning you and a lot of it is pretty cold. I'm sorry about that; I’m trying to be better. But um, like whenever I'm being frigid, maybe with this you can look at it and be like ‘Okay, wow, geez. Looks like it’s bitch o’clock’ or something, I guess.” Keith tugged at his sleeve before his fingers trailed down his own arm as his shoulder shrugged. He righted his shoulders and adjusted his stance, trying to at least  _ look _ like he wasn’t nervous.

    Lance’s surprised expression brightened into a smile after a minute. “Would you be altogether against me kissing you? Because that was adorable.” Keith blinked rapidly before recognizing the joke.

    He laughed, thumping Lance’s arm. “I’ve got coffee breath, Lan, I’m pretty sure you’d want to pass me up.”

    Lance simply smiled, brighter than the sun streaming down through the airport skylights. “I’m all for a little java,” Lance noted, tone teasing.

    Keith breathed a laugh, and gestured to the little box. “Open it,” he said, bringing them back onto track. A much safer track. One that didn’t have Keith’s body unconsciously tilting a little closer to Lance’s.

    “Oh! Right.” Lance laughed sheepishly and poked his finger under the wrapping. He unwrapped it all until he held a wristwatch nestled gently in its packaging. It had a beautiful glass face, showing off all the cogs still underneath, the hands pointing to midnight.

    “I-It winds itself with movement. You’ll never have to buy a battery with it. And you should be able to use it until the glass breaks or the cogs get out of alignment - if you want to, that is. And see, you can set the date. Calendar dates and the week day.” Keith leaned close, his finger hovered over the watch as he explained. Lance’s lips parted as his jaw dropped a tiny bit, looking at the contraption like it were his newborn baby. Keith looked up to find his soulmate staring at him. He let his eyebrows furrow. “You don’t like it,” he said slowly. He figured this would happen honestly. He should have stuck to something he was good at, like painting or sketching - unlike gift buying.

    So with that thought in mind, Lance throwing his arms around Keith and hugging him tight had been a bit of a surprise. “No, of course I do. I love it.” Lance spoke softly, breathing the words into his shoulder. “Thank you so much. I missed you.”

    Keith smile and hugged his soulmate in return. “I missed you too,” he said, putting his heart into his voice. “A lot.” Keith could practically feel Lance’s smile against the skin of his neck.

    Lance pulled back and took his soulmate’s hand. “Are you hungry? I could definitely eat.”

    Keith blew out a breath and nodded. “Same. Let’s go find something, yeah?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't like this chapter at first, but now that I've finished it............... Yeah. I like it.
> 
> I think I effectively killed Penny in the fluff. Right before she slayed me right the fuck back with more realistic fluff. Damn, my teeth still hurt.
> 
> Than again, thanks to both Mikiri and Penny for helping me out and beta reading this on such short notice! Seriously, I just finished this chapter today bc I'm horrible
> 
> Anyhow, fun fact (according to my research): pink camellias mean longing. Keith received a bouquet of red, pink and white camellias. Red ones mean "You're a flame in my heart." When mixed with pink ones, it means romance. When a white camellia is given to a man, it means luck, I envisioned it like Lance telling Keith good luck in your new apartment. But also it's a big fat hint for "Hey Soulmate dear, I've got the hots for you!"
> 
> Just... you know... have fun with that fact.
> 
> Please drop me a comment!! I love them, reply to every one and personally squee every time I get one
> 
> My tumblrs: [Personal](http://youngtiredandhungry.tumblr.com/) and [Voltron](https://goddammitlance.tumblr.com/)


	23. Heartwarmer - I MEANT HOUSEWARMER

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Be still his small, gay heart.

    With all of the boxes moved into the new apartment, it did look smaller. Still very nice and spacious, even if a little cluttered at the moment because of all the boxes. They were lining the walls in the living room, for the most part, in groups, thing sorted with their likes and neighbours.

    The main things that Keith had taken the time to start to unpack were in the kitchen and his bedroom. He was in the process of moving as soon as he signed the lease, moving all of his stuff from the old apartment to this one. He figured that while it might take a while to unpack everything and get the apartment to how he wanted it, the kitchen and his bedroom were his top priorities and had to be fixed up as soon as possible. The bedroom went first, but it still wasn’t done. There was still clothes to unpack (And clothes hangers to buy. He’d never had a closet before and he had already donated his dresser to Goodwill), but the bed was set up and a new lamp sat on his bedstand.

    The kitchen was easy to fix up, as there wasn’t a whole lot that went in there. There was a new set of silverware that he washed and put into the drawer divider. From there, the dishes were put into the cabinet of Keith’s choosing and the small amount of groceries he had from home were put in the fridge.

    Taking up a box marked ‘art supplies’, Keith settled it on the kitchen counter and sliced the boxing tape open with a pair of scissors and began sorting through its contents. These were his paints, mostly. There were a few cases of them, along with a little case of paintbrushes (they were almost brand new, maybe used a grand total of _once_. He couldn’t believe he forgot he had them). At the bottom he found a set of plastic tubes. Bodypaints. They had never been opened and their very presence made Keith blanch when he saw them. They were a very real reminder of a real problem he had yet to deliver himself from.

    When the semester began, they were doing solo projects in photography. Concept shots were supposed to be up and ready to go as soon as the semester started. From there, there was planning to be done, props to be gathered if necessary and you know, Keith’s a busy guy; he’s been doing stuff. Stuff that usually involved Lance. He figured there was a little leeway when it came to homework.

     His soulmate had recently bought into the habit of coming and helping Keith sort out his box furniture when he had time, helping decide out where everything was going to pan out and, the Sunday after Lance’s return, he helped Keith put together a coffee table. It was an interesting experience, especially with how adamant Lance was about using the instructions Keith flicked away when first opening the IKEA box.

    He had been thinking about his newest photography assignment, and the realization that the deadline was coming up wracked his spine with a horrified shiver. He’s gotta get his shit together and get to work and finalize his idea.

    For the record, Keith thought that, for the most part, his idea was a pretty solid one to stand on and he could work well with it. The words their professor left them with stuck in his head and refused to budge. _“I want to_ know _your struggles. I want to_ feel _your pain. I want to_ see _your enlightenment.”_

    She looked like she was anticipating the results her students would bring her with relish.

    Keith had considered her words a lot. He’d been through many ideas but the theme of _soulmates_ never left his mind. It was a worm in his ear, like a song playing on a constant repeat until you could sing it in your sleep. It was starting to get annoying. So much so, that he had wanted to do another project just for spite. But he caved in the end. He had been mentally plotting the entire photoset ever since. It was a simple enough concept, sure. He just needed a little help from his own dear ol’ soulmate.

    He felt a little like Gaston from Beauty and the Beast - that one time where he completely plans out his and Belle’s wedding… without even asking her if she would marry him.

    Well, that was his exact situation (okay, _almost_ ). He had it planned and storyboarded. It would be simple, focused on the four differing types of love. He had everything but the last two, agape and eros perfected and planned. For the last two themes, he had something _beautiful_ , he thought. He just… needed to ask Lance if he could help bring it to life. And he needed to find out if what he was envisioning could really come to life.

    And it was with that notion that the universe had decided to fuck him over again, he thought. Maybe ‘fuck him over’ was a little strong, Keith relented. Perhaps it was just trying to give him a gentle little’ nudge or something… because there was a knocking at his door and so far Lance was the only other person to come and check out his new pad besides Julie in the initial empty apartment tour. And really, she was more than likely too busy settling comfortably into her boyfriend’s apartment.

    There was a little hitch of breath, a glance at the door just off the kitchen, and then a hard stare at the roof as he willed the spike in his pulse down. _Really?_ he chided himself. _It might not even be him._

    Keith left the box behind to answer the door and sure enough, there in the hallway was Lance. Keith smiled at him through the little space created by the barely-opened door, still secured by the bolt and chain.

    “Hi,” he said. To this, Lance grinned that smile that was certainly trying to both rival the sun in brightness and force Keith’s heart to beat out of his goddamn chest at the same time. Lance gave a dorky little wave with his hand and adjusted the backwards baseball cap on his head.

    His hand went to scratch at his nose as he looked down the hallway, towards the bend in the hall leading to the elevator, like he was getting up some kind of nerve. He looked back up to Keith and “Housewarming gift,” was the first thing that came out of his mouth. He held up a little gift bag in his hand. It was a very tall, yet slim, polkadotted number with a tuft of crinkled tissue paper coming out the top of it. Keith shut the door again and yes, he really did enjoy (and chortle at) the way Lance let out a little unimpressed “Wait, are you kidding me!?” when he didn’t unlock it immediately.

    Keith snorted and locked the chain so he could open up the door again. “Oh, you’re still here?” he asked, his face open and teasing.

    Lance gave him the unimpressed look that matched his voice a second before. “Hardy-har,” he tutted. “If you don’t want this, then I’m going to drink it all myself.” He lifted the bag a bit. Keith cocked an eyebrow.

    “Drink what?” he asked, eyeing the bag. “A bottle of grapefruit juice or something?”

    Lance’s nose crinkled. “Hells no. It’s the _good_ stuff, thanks. In case you’ve forgotten, between us, I’m the one with the good taste.” He passed Keith right by, leaving his soulmate the epitome of exasperation.

    “Says the only one between us who has apparently worn socks with sandals,” Keith shot back as he shut the door again. The jab has the effect he wanted, the little pause and the overdramatic _we’re not doing this again are we?_ look on his face.

    “That was _one time_ , Keith. Once! In the sixth grade. The only reason you know about it is because my sister has it out for me! How about we just forget that ever happened?”

    Keith snorted and rounded Lance, gently taking the strings of the bag from his fingers as he actually made it into the kitchen (unlike Lance, who remained standing in the middle of the living room, taking everything such as the dirty cups on the coffee table in). Keith settled the bag on the kitchen counter, looking at his soulmate over the bar. “Oh come _on_. There’s no forgetting that, Lance.” He looked inside the bag and paused for a second, blinking. “You brought me champagne.” It wasn’t a question, but more of a baffled statement.

    Lance shrugged, his expression warming into something more akin to a shy or embarrassed smile. He twisted and moved to the bar, dropping himself on one of the dark wooden bar stools “Yeah. Housewarming gift. That’s a thing people do.”

    “You’ve been over to my house at least six times since I’ve moved in,” Keith said, his eyebrow raised. “And you already got me a housewarming gift.” His hand went out and pulled the little glass vase from the corner of the bar to the middle, right between them. Keith pulled a red flower out and ran his thumb carefully over the petals, looking at Lance.

    The actor shrugged a shoulder and took a second to take off his cap and tousle his hair.

    “I mean, yeah, but it’s like _official_ now. Since you’re mostly moved in.” He put his cap to the side and leaned folded arms onto the bar. “Besides, it’s sort of like a milestone. You gotta celebrate and we haven’t exactly done that yet.”

    “I guess,” Keith muttered, his cheeks warming in a way he really hoped Lance couldn’t see as looked back to the bag and removed the green bottle from the tall, metallic-spotted bag. He looked it over, glancing at its label before sitting it down onto the marble counter. He lifted the little twisty thing from the neck, but didn’t go farther than that before saying, “Can you open it? I’ll look for glasses.”

    “Yeah, sure.” Lance took up the bottle and Keith went to opening up cabinet doors, looking for appropriate glasses that weren’t coffee mugs or measuring cups. He couldn’t find any, so he resigned himself to the two coffee cups he pulled from the cupboard. He put one on the counter beside where Lance was fussing with the cork of the bottle. He rolled the other mug in his hand, nibbling at his bottom lip.

    “Uhm, thanks,” Keith mumbled softly, shuffling on the balls of his feet.

    Lance looked at him with a furrowed brow. “What for?”

    Keith shrugged. “Nobody’s ever bought me champagne before,” he mumbled. “So thanks for the drink. And… for coming over. It’s nice of you.” He let his shoulders rise and fall, signaling the end of his stiff, awkward confession.

    Lance gave him another smile. “You’re welcome,” he said, his fingers still working on the twisty thing on the neck while he looked at Keith. “I wanted to make sure that you-” He was interrupted by a loud popping and a sudden stream of foam coming out of the bottle. Keith jumped in surprise, his hands jumping up to his ears before he could bring them down while Lance exclaimed a curse and brought it to the sink. As the stream tapered off, Lance giggled a little and gestured for Keith’s mug. Keith handed it over to him and then went to retrieve the second mug on the other counter. Lance swapped it out for the champagne filled one and Keith took it, cupping it in his hands as he waited for Lance to pour one for himself. “There,” Lance said. He offered out his glass and Keith clinked the sides together.

    Keith teethed at his bottom lip, considering. He took a drink and leaned his hip against the counter top. He cleared his throat. “So, I have a favor to ask…”

    Lance looked at him from over the rim of his mug. “Oh yeah? What kind of favor?”

    “It’s for this over-the-summer preparatory thing I’m doing for photography. I’ve got this photoset I have planned out, but need to shoot. It’s due in like two weeks.” He took another sip from his cup. “I was _going_ to have Julie help me, but she squicked out in terms of the last bit.”

    The raised eyebrow he got made Keith second guess his explanation. “Why’d she backout? Did you have her like, bathe in a bathtub full of snakes or something?”

    Keith gave him a look, tilting his head as he did. “What the fuck? What could that possibly symbolise?”

    Lance made a little sound as he took a sip. “I dunno, maybe something like how we’re our most vulnerable and exposed when we’re by ourselves; _like,_ when we bathe. The snakes would represent like negative intrusive thoughts or body dysphoria or something along those lines.”

    “Okay, well fuck my idea, I’m stealing yours.”

    Lance laughed loudly. “You’d better credit,” he warned, pointing a finger. “I don’t want to be the one to send my own soulmate to prison for thievery.”

    Keith rolled his eyes. “ _Fine_ ,” he huffed. “Back to the point, the theme is kind of like soulmates, but it’s more like the different types of love. There’s four I’m going to use: deep friendship, playful love, unconditional love and then there’s sexual passion. I _think_ Julie’s still going to help me out with the friendship bit, but I need help with the others.”

    Lance hummed. “So what are you planning?”

    Ah, well. Oh boy. Keith shifted to Lance’s side so he could handle the box again. He found the set of tubes easily. “Short story: body paint.”

    “I’m intrigued,” Lance said, his eyes widening a little. “Have you ever used that kind of thing before.”

    Keith frowned. “No, that’s another problem. I need to get a feel for the paint, too. I dunno whether or not paintbrushes need to be a thing, or if I just use my fingers, or what.”

    “So you want to paint me up?”

    “I want to paint you up, yes.”

    “Like what part of me? My arm or my face or something?” Lance put his cup on the bar behind him and began to run the fingers of his left hand over his right wrist.

    Keith pursed his lips in thought. “Not… really.”

         Keith thought Lance would laugh, personally, then suggest something else that required his shirt to stay on. When Keith admitted that it would be a little better to do something along Lance’s shoulder blades and a little further down his back, the actor went right along with it. He nodded, asked “You want to do it now?” and then proceeded to help Keith get ready for the whole ordeal. They laid down a plastic sheet that had come on Keith’s mattress, spreading it out in the living room floor. Keith gathered a few paintbrushes and a palette, a plastic glass of water to put onto the coffee table and finally a few rags to boot.

    A little quicker than Keith was prepared for, Lance was pulling off his shirt and lying down on the plastic sheet, making himself as comfortable as possible. Keith tossed him a throw pillow to put under his head and then he settled in too. He started on his knees beside Lance, looking over beautiful tanned skin with a new nervousness in his chest. Be still his small, gay heart.

    He shook that thought aside and lifted a leg so that he could straddle Lance’s lower back. His soulmate let out a little sound of surprise, looking over his shoulder. The color on his cheeks was surely a figment of Keith’s imagination.

    “Alright,” he muttered, thinking up a battle plan. Like a lightbulb clicking on, Keith’s eyes lit up and he pulled his phone from his pocket. He typed something into google and quickly found a reference picture. It probably wasn’t going to be perfect, but then again, this is just a practice run.

    He popped his lips, setting his phone to the side before he picked up the tube of navy blue.

    “I swear to God I’m gonna be so mad if you paint a dick on me.” The little declaration was muffled by Lance’s forearms but it reached Keith’s ears easily.

    Keith cracked a little laugh just as he popped the cap of the dark blue, squirting some onto the palette. “That’s it. All plans are being thrown out. I’m gonna paint the biggest dick you’ve ever seen on your shoulder blades.” Lance jerked his head up and looked over his shoulder with wide eyes.

    “Keith. Don’t. You. Dare,” he said. “Keith, I trusted you.”

    “It’ll be the prettiest dick you’ve ever seen so don’t worry,” Keith said, grinning as he smoothed the heel of his palm over the knobs of Lance’s spine, pushing him back down. Lance relaxed and buried his face into his forearms, relishing the time under his soulmate’s hands.

    And then he hummed, teasing, “Maybe that’s just because I haven’t seen yours yet~”

    Keith’s body seemed to lock up at the sing-song tone and the smirk in Lance’s voice. Lance was sniggering under him with his shoulders shaking from it. Keith twisted his thumb into Lance’s side and ignored the flush on his face. “Shut _up_ Lance.” Lance yipped but he otherwise settled down. For a moment.

    “Well, you’d be so pretty when I kiss you nice and slow.” His voice trailed off but his face was still buried in his arms so Keith couldn’t see his expression.

    “Lance, no.”

    “You’d probably be even prettier when I get you in a bedroom-.”

    Keith leaned down and pressed his burning face in the cool space between Lance’s shoulder and neck. He braced his hands on his upper arms, not even caring how to paint on his fingers smudged at his canvas. “ _Stop_ ,” he muttered, dragging out the vowels. “You’re so embarrassing.” All Lance did was laugh. “Oh my God, why would I need to draw a dick on you if you are already one?”

    Lance laughed harder, burying his face in his arms. Keith rolled his eyes and sighed out his slight irritation. He pulled himself up a bit and concentrated, just looking in between slender shoulder blades until he regained his composure. He watched as Lance breathed; steady inhales and exhales, lungs expanding, shifting in a way that made Keith’s heart stutter. Every curve of his torso and bump of his spine made Keith ache with want for his soulmate. Every soft breath and careful shift made Keith wish that he could bend down and kiss him, litter his strong back with marks and the tingling feeling one gets after a tender kiss.

    He leaned down and pressed the smallest kiss just under his hairline, on the nape of his neck. There was a hiccup in Lance’s breath and Keith had to admit that he _really_ liked the sound that it made. He sat up and began. His fingers were soft in his lines as he started out.

    It was initially about practice, but it quickly bled into something warmer as Keith’s fingers began to form a beautiful picture on his soulmate’s skin in many colors, each one leading perfectly into the next in swirls and careful strokes with his thumb. Just as quickly, it bled into something much more intimate than a simple art practice. That much was clear in the occasional small hum or gasp from Lance as Keith’s hands drew lower or closer to his sides.

    Lance shifted once, dropping one of his arms to the side to get a relief in the stiff joints.

    “Stay still,” Keith chided quietly, sweeping a small swirl into the pain on his shoulder blades. He was trying to get the effect along the lines of Starry Night, but he wasn’t getting it quite right. The consistency of this paint was perhaps a bit thinner than he was used to, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t work with.

    Lance shifted again under Keith’s fingers and mumbled something into his elbow.

    “Hmm?” Keith hummed absentmindedly.

    “Can’t,” Lance clarified, lifting his head up the smallest of bits.

    “You’re going to make me mess it up. If I mess it up, I’m just going to have to redo the whole thing.” He bent over a little and blew softly on a patch he needed dry.

    “I don’t think I could take that,” Lance confessed in a voice that was much higher than his usual one.

    Keith frowned. “Why?” he asked, looking up to the back of Lance’s head. “Is this uncomfortable for you?”

    Lance let out a breath and shifted, his hips this time, under Keith. “In a way.”

    “Do I need to stop?” He stilled carefully, just looking up to the back of Lance’s head and the short line of his jaw that was visible.

    “No,” Lance replied, if a little too quickly. “It’s fine. You can keep going.” He gulped in a breath and Keith felt the way he held it in before slowly letting it out in a fluid moment.

    “O-kay,” Keith muttered. So he carried on, painting until Lance shifted again, elevating the upper part of his body just as Keith held a tube of paint above him, intent of getting a bit directly onto the pads of his fingers. Keith jostled, spilling some of the paint. He cursed quickly under his breath and discarded the little tube. He used his nails to scrape away some of the paint from the area he was working on. “See what you did? I told you to stay still.” The only answer he got was a small whine from Lance that had Keith frozen instantly.

    “You’re making it hard to,” Lance told him, the whine still tracing in his voice. Keith’s eyebrow rose critically for a second.

    “Think about how that just sounded, buddy,” Keith told him, tapping a finger in the paint.

    “I know _exactly_ how that sounded,” Lance told him as a matter of factly, looking over his shoulder with a little giggle. Keith scoffed a laugh, but nonetheless, the sound and the way he rapped his knuckles on his shoulder blade lightened the mood.

    “God, you’re hopeless,” Keith informed him.

    Lance just giggled more. “Ahhh, but don’t give up on me, okay?” His sides wiggled, and Keith had to hold his hands in mid-air so he wouldn’t smudge anything or get paint everywhere.

    Keith smiled fondly. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

    Twenty minutes later the painting was finished and another seven after, the paint was suitably dry.

    “Stay here for a second,” Keith told Lance as he stood up, snagging a rag so he could clean his hands off at least a little bit. He went up the small set of stairs to the little loft that was his bedroom. He found the little camera immediately from where it was sitting in the tangle of his blankets. He took it downstairs to where Lance was still obediently lying with his chin tucked into the throw pillow. “Found it,” Keith announced, coming back to stand over his soulmate. Lance hummed, looking up to look at Keith in their reflections depicted in the large windows on the back wall. Keith met his eyes and smiled before going back to his task and snapping the picture.

    Here was a little sound, but the film was produced, blank thought it was. He took it from the camera and allowed Lance to get up, moving out of the way so he could stand. It was a slow string of movements where Lance eased up, stretching back until his spine popped in two places. It was hard for Keith to convince himself that he wasn’t watching the movement when all parts of his brain knew that he full well _was_.

    Lance turned to him when his arms were still stretched above his head, crooked at the elbows. “Can I see it?” he asked, his voice sounding odd and slightly groggy.

    Keith looked down to the little Polaroid with the picture that still had yet to develop. “Oh, sure,” he said. “I have to find my phone, it’s still blank.” He showed off the little picture before turning and putting both to the camera and the picture on the arm of the couch “Hang on.” Keith looked around the living room, still lined with boxes upon boxes of Keith’s possessions. “Shit, where did I leave it?” He frowned and moved a couple of plastic-covered couch cushions so he could look under them.

    “Here, you can use mine,” Lance said suddenly. Keith looked up and tossed the cushion back to the couch and twisted around. Lance was already pulling his phone from his back pocket and offering it over to Keith.

    The camera app was already up, Keith found, when he gingerly accepted the phone from his soulmate’s hand. “Turn around,” he told Lance after a second of tapping around on the phone’s screen and setting the flash from auto to on. Lance obeyed readily, turning so that he faced the window. Keith paused for a second, realizing that the sun had, in fact, set outside of his windows. He didn’t realize that the painting had taken so much time.

    He blinked and refocused, tilting the phone to landscape before he clicked the picture. There was a tiny lull, where the flash activated and illuminated most of the room with light for a second before the frame was captured. He clicked his tongue and took two more, just for options before he flipped through the gallery.

    The painting wasn’t what he’d imagined it to be, but he liked the end result. He gave the phone back to Lance and the actor looked at the pictures, thumbing through some of them. His mouth was stretched into a wide grin as he looked. “You did that?” he asked, sounding ridiculously in awe. “That’s amazing!” Keith gave a little smile despite himself.

    “It wasn’t what I wanted, but it’s not a mess,” he shrugged.

    “Keith, lovely. Dear soulmate of mine, shut the fuck up. This is beautiful. I might cry. Look at this.” He turned the screen towards Keith like he hadn’t just spent several hours on Lance’s back painting that what was shown there. “Beautiful perfection. Not me, but, okay well, of course I am too. But this is like, next level stuff.” He finally stopped for a breath. “I can’t shower anymore. Not with this. And that’s problem, Keith. I take very good care of myself, babe, okay? My personal hygiene is amazing and now it’s all down the drain because you decided to paint a fucking masterpiece on my back.”

    Keith couldn’t help but laugh at the rant. “Oh c’mon,” he muttered, backing up to sit on the couch. The plastic made a crinkling sound as he put his weight down on it. The sound was loud but definitely not as loud as Lance’s protests.

    “ _Nooo_ , bub! Modesty isn’t for you.” Lance plopped down beside him. The movement made both of them freeze in whip-snap realization. “Shit,” Lance muttered, carefully leaning up again.

    Keith looked over the smeared paint on Lance’s skin and was still for a second. For only a second, because in the next one he was laughing. Laughing at the horrified look on Lance’s face when he saw the smudged paint on the back of the plastic covered couch. “You idiot!” Keith sniggered. “There goes my masterpiece! Oh my _God_ , Lance, what do you have to say for yourself?”

    Lance seemed to be in a state of shock, mourning the loss of the “perfection” that used to be on his back. He couldn’t even see the damage and he seemed to be taking the blow as a personal loss. “You gotta do it again,” he breathed, eyes wide. “ _Keith,_ buddy, my man, you gotta paint it again!”

    Keith sputtered another laugh and pushed the ever-encroaching face of Lance Vasquez away by the heel of his palm against Lance’s jaw.

    He forced down his giggles and straightened up, trying to school his features into something a little more tame. “Nope, there’s no refunds or redos,” he told Lance. “This was just trial run. You gotta pay for the next one.”

    Lance made a little sound akin to a whimper. “Do I at least get the soulmate special?”

    Keith scoffed. “Soulmate special? Nah, I’m doubling the price for you.”

    Lance gaped at him. “But Keith-”

    “No buts,” Keith said, shaking his head. “You’re good for it and we both know it, man.” He smiled and ruffled the side of his hair before he stood up. “Now come on, let’s go wash that shit off of your back.”

    Lance’s grief was there for all of another two seconds before there was an expression on his face that most certainly was not innocent - with the little smirk that Keith constantly thought of when the real thing wasn’t in front of him and a pair of hooded blue eyes that gave Keith a shiver down his spine.

    “You gonna wash my back for me?” he asked, his voice much lower than it was a second ago.

    Keith most certainly didn’t have a flush on his cheeks when he replied.

“Don’t be a pervert, man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized last minute that I didn't describe Keith's apartment, or give Any back story about Lance's 5-6 times already visiting, so I'll probably be posting a separate one-shot depicting all of that - at least Lance's first time in the apartment. To be sure you get notified of that, you can go [Here](http://archiveofourown.org/series/601204) which will take you to the series page for this fic. You can subscribe so you can be up to date on all of the one-shots I post in relation to this universe!
> 
> Also: I completely blame littlepennycandy for the body paint. It was a light of inspiration in the middle of NaNo and now I'm so glad I finally get to share it. Seriously, this bit will be my demise.
> 
> Thank you Mikiri for being my beta!!
> 
> Please leave me a comment!
> 
> You can also drop by my tumblrs! | [Personal](http://youngtiredandhungry.tumblr.com/) | [Voltron](https://goddammitlance.tumblr.com/) |
> 
> FUN FACT: an anonymous read came to me and sent me an ask and now there's a small drabble for the end of this chapter and it is right [here](http://youngtiredandhungry.tumblr.com/post/156548129304/omg-why-must-u-end-the-chapter-on-a-part-that-i).  
> It's basically just 600 words from Lance's POV as soon as this ends.


	24. Sets And Set Ups

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early update!!! Idk why I just felt like it.  
> See you on the flip side ;)  
> ((Edit, Sorry!!! I had to momentarily take down the chapter bc it wasn't showing up the top of the VLD tag. But we're back.))

         Really the only thing difficult about Allura’s plan was finding the coffee shop Keith worked at. She crossed her fingers tightly hoping that they would deliver.

   They were working today, finishing shots that were to be used at the tail end of the season. They were shooting the climactic stuff right now, featuring a military coup and plot twists that Allura couldn’t wait to see the fan reactions to.

    They were on break for now, with Allura, Matthew and Shiro

    It turned out that her PA, Chip, was able to find the shop. He delivered the good news on a break between takes and she nearly dropped her water bottle. Her mischievous grin had the young man worrying about what the future held, and he was thankful it had nothing more to do with him. He gave her the number and she gleefully excused herself from the crowd for a moment.

    She had a call to make and a day to brighten.

         Keith _never_ liked deliveries. Deliveries were fast-paced and stressful. You have to make sure you went fast enough so that you got to the destination before the coffee cooled but not so as the coffee spilled in the back of the truck and basically screwed everything up.

    Dave always made a point not to put Keith on delivery duty because of his feelings towards it. They had two other employees that ran deliveries, one of them loved deliveries just because it got them out of the little shop for a while. And since they had people to run deliveries that certainly were _not_ Keith, he didn’t understand why he was being assigned this one.

    His mood was fair that morning. Everything was going well until Dave came up to him with an order form in his hands and a request that he take the delivery to a studio a little ways away. “Your shift’s almost over anyhow. You can get that done and then call it quits after, okay? You can take your time gettin’ back.”

    Keith took the order form and looked it over carefully. He drew in a little breath and accepted the job. “Sure thing, boss,” he said, nodding resolutely before he turned to make his way back into the front of the store to have the drinks made and pastries gathered. They wanted three iced coffees that were Keith’s definition of “Death by Sugar” and three more that were a little tamer on Keith’s scale.

    Within minutes everything was loaded into the back of the van and he was inputting the address provided.

    The movie studio was around half an hour’s drive off given fair traffic. It wasn’t a _huge_ one, but it was big enough that Keith had to be checked out by security and given a fucking badge to show that he belonged before he could even drive through the gates to make a simple coffee delivery. From there it was finding the _right_ studio building and finding a place to park the company van.

    Keith realized as he pulled everything to the back doors of the van, that he should have brought help because there was no way he was going to be able to carry all these in without an extra four hands.

    Carefully, he balanced one tray of cups on the other and, with the two little bags of pastries, he was able to pick everything up. It felt like it was constantly teetering and that the bags were going to fall out of his hand clutching at the bottom on the cup tray, but he was able to bump the van doors shut with his elbow and make his way precariously to the wide open doors of the studio.

    It was crazy busy, with people running to and fro _everywhere_. There were people carrying props and wardrobes, and members of a production team fussing with equipment. Keith saw people carrying platters of cubed fruit and similar food items from a sort of truck nearby so he took to following them through the studio doors. He caught a young man who, in Keith’s opinion, looked sort of like an intern.

    “Do you know where I can find an-,” he looked down to the order and receipt taped down to the lid of the cup nearest to his face. “- ‘Allie Harris?’” He didn’t need to state what his intention was, by the heavy load in his arms and the hat on his head that held the logo of his workplace.

    The young man’s eyebrows furrowed and he frowned in thought. “I have… no idea,” he muttered. “I don’t know anybody on staff with that name.”

    Keith let out a breath. His eye felt like it could twitch any second. Of course this guy didn’t know. This is why Keith hated deliveries. “Do you know who would?” he asked, a tick impatient as the coffee began to feel a little heavier in his hands.

    The man hesitated and looked around for a second. He seemed to have caught a glance of his quarry, as his face lit up a little. “Stay here for a second,” he told Keith and took off.

    Keith uttered a curse under his breath but stayed put. He adjusted his grip as he watched the young man hurry over to another man a few yard away who was quietly tapping through an iPad. They seemed to have a jolly old conversation while Keith was struggling to keep his grip on both trays, plus the stupid paper sacks that seemed to _really_ want out of his grip. Finally, the second man looked over to Keith and his eyes widened in what looked like panic. He said something, dismissed the first man and hurried over.

    “Oh my God!” he exclaimed. He took the first tray from Keith and held it himself. “So sorry!” Keith nodded his thanks as he once again readjusted his grip, this time putting the sacks and pastries in between the cups on the tray so he could hold it all properly.

    “It’s fine,” he sighed. “Do you know where I can find Allie Harris? This is their delivery.”

    “Yes, yes, this way.” Keith followed the man through the building, passing up several sets and avoiding crew members as they went. They passed by a set that looked like the inside of some kind of ship hangar that almost had Keith pausing in his step. That looked way too familiar.

    He looked at the man beside him, suddenly very curious. “What are they filming here?” he asked. He felt like he already knew the answer.

    “It’s a show called Altea,” the man confided. _Yep_ . Keith knew it. He had a niggling little suspicion that, sure was ridiculous, but nonetheless was there. Honestly what were the chances that he would be making a delivery just _here_ ? Slim. Not impossible, he granted, but _very_ slim.

    “Oh,” he muttered in response and kept following until they reached another set that had Keith really pausing in  his step.

    Keith watched in stunned silence, breath caught in his throat as the scene unfolded in front of him and the camera a little ways in front of him and to his left. There were wires and electrical equipment everywhere, along with staff and the director of the scene behind the camera, calling shots as the actors on set went about their lines and actions.

    Even with the production right in front of him, that didn’t take away from any of the magic that was currently being created in the futuristic crown room right in front of Keith.

    There was a small group of people there, a few extras around the room dressed out as soldiers holding various blasters and rifles, reacting to what was the main focus, four characters in the direct middle of the set and the action they were engaged in. There was tension, that was easy to see, between the two obvious antagonists of the scene and the two Keith knew best, Lance and Allura. Keith didn’t know what was happening in this scene but he definitely wish that he did.

    Because Lance was currently on the floor, a bloody nose that damned well looked realistic and the look of murder in his eyes as he watched every move of the baddie standing over him with his fist still slightly raised. He looked more disbelieving of his own actions than threatening, but Lance still watched him like a hawk.

    Keith watched as Allura pulled Lance up by his arm. That make up was seriously intense. There must have been more than just a slug to the nose prior to this part because Lance looked like his face had been pummeled by more than just the hit to his nose. The way he held himself too, suggested prior injury; the way he bent the slightest bit at the waist and kept his full weight off of his left side.

    And then there was a lull. A silence that stretched on far too long to be scripted. Finally, the one that had seemingly hit Lance looked up, a disappointed twist to his mouth. “I need a line,” he uttered helplessly. There seemed to be a collective groan.

    “Cut!” the director shouted. There was a click from a sound board and suddenly the stillness of the set exploded into a bustle of activity. “Adams get a script and sit down with it for a while. We’ll break for a few.”

    There was a grumble from the actor in question as he walked off the set, towards a folding chair not too far away.

    The man still standing beside Keith switched the paper tray of cups over to one hand as he waved the other in the air, catching the attention of Allura. Her eyes found Keith’s and she grinned brightly.  Her hand wound around Lance’s wrist and she tugged him forward.

    Lance flailed, his eyes on Allura as he tripped along beside her. “Allie, what the hell? I will bet good money that there’s still some of those nasty wrap things at the buffet table. We don’t need to rush!”

   As soon as Keith heard the words, it clicked. _So._ It wasn’t a coincidence. Lance didn’t shut up until he looked over and saw who his sister was dragging him towards. He was all shock from there.

    “What the hell?” he repeated when he and Allura came to stop in front of Keith and the other man.

    “Coffee delivery!” the young man said, lifting his tray to indicate Keith’s obvious reason for being there. The kid’s iPad almost slipped from where it was tucked under his arm when he shifted his grip so he could grab at the receipt.

    “Allie Harris?” Keith questioned, eyebrow lifted. Allura smiled at him and took the receipt offered to her.

    She nodded at him. “I primarily use that name when ordering things,” she said, shrugging. “It’s not fake.” She said it like it justified bringing Keith all the way out here to end up visiting them on set under the guise of coffee delivery. “Did you find your way here easily enough?”

    “I… followed the GPS,” Keith said, shrugging. “I guess.” Keith looked over at Lance and he found it hard to look away for a second. “Holy fuck,” he muttered. “Your _face_.” He resisted the urge to reach out and sweep his thumb over his soulmate’s cheekbone. Mainly because of the coffee in his hands.

    Lance blinks away the last bits of surprise and he smirks. “Oh yeah? Like what you see, Keith?” His voice dropped a little and he inclined his head the littlest bit.

    “Good heavens, take your sexual tension elsewhere,” Allura said, taking the tray from Keith’s hands. She giggled, Keith’s nose crinkled and Lance’s face flushed brightly.

    Keith cleared his throat and scratched at his nape. “So… cash, check or…?”

    “I paid online, so you’re free of your task.” She smiled at him and looked down at the tray. “Chip, we have to go find the others and give them their drinks,” she mumbled to the fourth still in their group. He straightened up, instantly at attention. She twisted away and hurried off in the same direction Keith had come from. Just after they left, the director looked at his phone and winced.

    “Alright. Change of plans,” he said, calling the attention of most everyone in the area. “Take forty for lunch!” he called out. Instantly, things were dropped and actors shot up from seats so they could make their way around to the front of the studio where the buffet table sat. Keith had passed it on the way in - he remembered how it was being set up with food as they passed.

    He cleared his throat and looked back his his soulmate. “I should get out of here, then,” he said, casting around for what seemed to be the protocol on a situation like this.

    Lance caught his hand from where it swung in little circles by his side. “You could stay for lunch,” he said.

    Keith hesitated. “I dunno,” he mumbled, shrugging a shoulder. “Am I even allowed to do that?”

    Lance laughed and threaded their fingers together. “It’ll be fine,” he assured. He brought Keith along the same path that he had come down earlier, never dropping his hand until they caught sight of the long table.

    There was a little group at the end of the table, far enough away as not to be blocking the progression of the ever steady crowd of the crew grazing through the buffet. Hunk and Katie were taking coffees from Allura and Chip’s trays while Matt went straight for one of the little white paper sacks. Katie saw Keith and Lance first and she almost choked on her drink. She looked at the logo on the cup, then to the one on Keith’s hat.

    “Allura, you actually did it!” she exclaimed. She looked at Allura and shook her head in surprise. “I didn’t think you were gonna do it.”

    “Do what?” Hunk asked, reaching carefully for the bag in Matt’s hand. Matthew paused, holding his little pastry in his mouth so he could hand a cruller over to Hunk. Katie dug an elbow in Hunk’s ribs and nodded her head towards Keith. “Ooh!” He smiled widely at Keith and Lance’s hand held Keith’s just a little tighter as he smiled, too. “Came to visit?”

    Keith shook his head. “No, I came on a delivery.” He gave a look to Allura, but she just laughed and poked a straw through the lid of her coffee.

    “She’s been saying that she was going to do this since like, the beginning of time,” Katie told him. “I’m just surprised that it took this long for her to bite the bullet have it done.”

    “It would have happened sooner if _Lance_ would have given me the name of the shop when I had asked.” Allura frowned and gave her brother a pointed look.

    He let go of Keith’s hand and shook his fist in the air between them. “I knew it! I _knew_ you were going to do something like this!”

    Allura hummed and gave him a charming smile. “You’re _welcome_ ,” she said, a song in her voice. “You two haven’t been able to see each other much due to work, yes? Well, now you’ve seen each other!” It wasn’t much of an excuse; Lance still took time to visit Keith’s apartment after work unless it was a particularly stressful day or shooting ran later than usual. They weren’t skipping out much in that department, but it was the thought that counted…?

    Lance didn’t thank her, and Katie was laughing too loudly, drawing too much attention for Keith’s thankful little smile to be seen.

    Keith and Lance progressed through to the food, leaving the others to trail along behind them at their own pace.

    Keith wasn’t so sure how the studio paid for all this food every working day, but he knew that he most certainly didn’t want to see the bill for all of this. Most of the food, save what was at the furthest end was catered.

    In contrast to Keith’s singular Clif bar, Lance’s plate was loaded to the rim and piled three feet high. That’s what it seemed like, anyway. He looked back to Keith and raised his eyebrows. “You not gonna eat?” he questioned.

    “I have this.” Keith lifted his little protein bar as an indicator and Lance snorted.

    “That’s _not_ food, babe. Not a proper _lunch_ anyway.”

    Keith just shrugged and grabbed a bottle of water as they passed. “I’ve already had lunch.”

    Lance nodded his head and trailed off away from the table, seemingly done filling his plate. They ended up on the steps of a little abandoned set a ways away from the lunch crowd where they were able to sit comfortably side by side with Lance’s full plate between them.

    “Is this where you usually eat lunch?” Keith questioned, folding his legs under himself.

    Lance looked around them as if just seeing their location. “No…” he said after a moment. “I usually eat with the group or a few of the crew members. Usually Jerry if he’s free. He’s a grip.” Keith hummed, making note of the information. He unwrapped his Clif bar and took a bite. The texture was always weird with these. The blueberry flavor was nice though, he enjoyed it better than any other Clif bar he’d eaten before.

    “What scene was that back there?” he asked casually, glancing to his soulmate who was chugging down a bottle of water.

    He gulped the rest down and set the empty plastic bottle. “Did you like it? This makeup’s pretty rad.” He pointed a finger to his face. “Looks like I got the shit beat outta me.”

    “I noticed,” Keith replied, once again looking at the raised places on his face where the swelling would be. “It’s pretty wild.”

    “Oh yeah, I know. It’s crazy what these people can do with some latex.” He shook his head and popped a strawberry in his mouth. “That scene though. I got socked in the nose. Like for real. Motherfucker _actually_ _fucking_ hit me. On accident, of course. I didn’t pull back in time but _shit,_ it fucking hurt.”

    Keith pulled back a little in surprise. “Is that actual blood, then?” he asked.

    Lance shook his head. “No. This is fake.” He scarfed down few chunks of pineapple. “It didn’t bleed.”

    Keith reached his pinky out and tapped where a bit was at the upper corner of Lance’s mouth. Lance’s eyes were on his finger, watching it as it closed in and smudged the fake blood.

    Keith breathed out a little laugh. “Yeah. It’s not real. It doesn’t flake.”

    Lance looked at him weirdly. “That’s weird that that’s how you judge it by,” he advised.

    Keith wiped his pinky on his jeans and ate the last few bites of his Clif bar until the wrapper joined Lance’s empty water bottle between them.

    He leaned back on his elbows and let his eyes close for a moment, soaking in the immediate quiet where the only sounds was the small background noise from the crew around them and Lance’s chewing and ruckus beside him. Okay, so it wasn’t quiet, but it was calm and Keith felt relaxed enough to take advantage of that calm moment for a second to just sit back and enjoy the little time with Lance.

    At least he did until Lance started talking again.

    “Here.” Keith picked his head up so he could look at Lance but almost startled back as a piece of fruit was pressed into the corner of his mouth.

    “What the fuck.” Keith muttered out of the corner of his mouth, eyebrows furrowed.

    Lance pressed the little cube of watermelon against his lip. “Eaaaaat it,” Lance prodded.

    “Why?” Keith asked, not opening his mouth wide enough for the cube, but instead but looking between Lance’s face and the fingers next to his face.

    “You gotta.”

    “Oh, do I? Why?”

    “Because it’s probably nutritious,” Lance told him. Keith gave a strained expression but opened his mouth enough so that Lance could pop the little cube into his mouth. He grinned and pushed the plate between them a little closer to Keith’s thigh. Keith sat up straight and looked at his soulmate.

    “I already ate,” Keith said again.

    “When was that?” Lance asked, popping a grape into his mouth. He seemed to favor the fruits more than anything else, as most of what he was eating was almost gone already. Keith shrugged at his question.

    “I don’t know. Noon?” It had been around eleven thirty, just before his shift started. He had leftover chow mein he had ordered out the night before.

    Lance nodded and picked up a little finger sandwich. “It’s suggested by professionals that you eat a little snack in between lunch and dinner.”

    “What professionals?” Keith demanded right before Lance offered the bit to him, way too close to his mouth. Keith glared at him before he rolled his eyes and bit the end of the sandwich, not bothering to take it from him.

    Lance pretended to look at Keith over the rims of a pair of imaginary glasses. “The professional ones,” he answered, as if it were obvious. He ate the rest of the sandwich with a quick pop of his fingers.

    Keith cracked open his bottle of water and looked over at Lance again. “Aren’t they concerned that you’ll fuck up your makeup during lunch?” he asked curiously. Personally, if he were to have Lance all painted up he wouldn’t want him _moving_ let alone actually eating lunch or something.

    He paused, lid half off his bottle as a sudden thought struck him. His eyes flicked up to Lance’s cheeks, the puffed out things as Lance chewed away. There was the swelling around Lance’s cheekbones that attracted his eyes, the airbrushed blues, reds and subtle purples that made up the bruising on his face. There was the red trailing from his nostrils down over parts of his lips to be smeared away just above his chin. It gave Keith pretty little ideas about what he could do next time with _his_ paints.

    Now that he was thinking about it, there was so much he could do with Lance as his canvas, color him up not just with paints but with kisses as well…

    “Nah, they’ll touch up right before we start again.”

    “Touch up?” Keith questioned absentmindedly. What were they talking about, again? “Where?”

    Lance blinked at him. “My... face? Where else, man?”

    “Nowhere, don’t be crazy,” Keith muttered quickly He looked down to their plate, mind fully online, now and his cheeks were positively _burning_ as he poked through the rest of the food on Lance’s plate. He stuffed nearly a whole asparagus roll up in his mouth, chewing in exaggerated movements in an effort to distract from the color staining his cheeks worse than the makeup on Lance’s skin.

    Lance’s laughter was whooping and he _literally_ slapped his knee. Keith glared up at him but Lance paid him no mind. Once he calmed down a bit, he was giving Keith that godawful smirk again. “You-” he paused and sucked in another breath to bury another fit of laughter. “-You wanna go find a closet and touch _me_ up?”

    It was a joke, sure. Keith knew that it was a joke but _fuck_ , why did Lance have to tease him like that? After a split second of consideration, Keith decided to take a chance.

    “No, but I wouldn’t mind messing up your makeup.” His voice wasn’t one of jest and neither was the little wink of his eye.

    Lance’s face was almost comical. It was perhaps what he hoped for after every shitty one liner: a beautiful flush, a stunned silence and a sudden expression of want.

    This was new; Keith never played along before. He always shrugged it off with an eyeroll or a groan. He never _reciprocated_ or joked back. And from the look in Lance’s eyes as he looked into Keith’s, Keith was pretty sure that Lance knew that he wasn’t joking.

    But then, Lance was frowning, his eyebrows furrowing as he paused. “Why would you want to do that?” he questioned. Keith had the urge to smack his palm against his forehead. Keith didn’t regularly flirt and this was a reason: it never seemed to be taken the way he wanted it to be taken. Had he said it wrong? He thought that _Lance_ of all people would take that for a cue to lean in and maybe they could exchange a kiss or two before lunch ended and he was swept away to play his part of the hero back on set.

    But of course he didn’t. Keith shook his head, muttering a small _nevermind_ before picking up a yogurt cup and prying the lid open. He looked off over the studio, taking in the crew not too far away, still taking their lunches in the company of their co-workers, laughing and enjoying themselves. He sighed and lifted his yogurt cup to his mouth. He paused just before and looked down to it. The plastic was red, playing along with the cherry flavor. He settled it back down on his thigh, knowing that it wouldn’t be good for him to eat it and _really_ not wanting to deal with the repercussions later.

    Lance cleared his throat and Keith sucked on his teeth but didn’t look over to him, still looking down at the pink treat in his hand. He didn’t look over at the little sound of his name on Lance’s lips, but he did at the jab on his shoulder.

    He looked over, words like _what_ and _I should be getting out of here_ right on the very tip of his tongue before they were suddenly gone, disappeared as suddenly as Lance was in his space, leaning over the plate between them so he could press his lips softly into the corner of Keith’s mouth.

    Keith startled, his hand squeezing at the yogurt cup so that it spilled on his pant leg. He put it out of his mind for the moment because in all honesty, he was a little preoccupied. His left hand scrabbled to hold onto the collar of Lance’s costume jacket and hold him steady while he turned his head so that their lips could fit together a little more comfortably.

    Lance pulled back after a second. He looked a little short of breath, despite the chasteness of what had just happened.

    “That was okay right? That’s what you meant? I could kiss you?” Lance asked in rapid fire succession along with a few other questions filled with uncertainty. Keith didn’t explain or answer his questions except by leaning back in to kiss Lance again.

    Lance shifted closer to Keith, cupping his face as he turned his body towards him. The pads of his thumbs swept along his cheekbones in little circles and Keith’s skin tingled pleasantly under his hands. Keith made a small sound, tilted his head and made the move to deepen the kiss.

    Lance took it in stride and nibbled along Keith’s bottom lip and Keith’s breath hitched in his chest. His hand slipped from Lance’s lapel up to cup Lance’s jaw, cradling it in his hand as he kissed his soulmate, long and slow and so fucking _right_. Every little sound Lance made - every gasp of breath, little hum in his throat and unintelligible mumble, it was all instantly committed to Keith’s memory. Everything about this moment was. The touch of Lance’s fingertips against his cheeks, the smell of latex and various makeups from Lance being in such a close proximity, the buzz of activity in the background and the warmth of his chest. It all seemed so loud in Keith’s brain.

    When they pulled back, Keith was ready to dive right back in, only held back as Lance looked off to the side, to where the crew’s activity seemed to be dissipating. Lance made a face.

    He sighed. “Lunch’s ending.” He looked at Keith and gave a shaky smile. Keith smiled back and took his hand back from Lance’s person. That was when he shifted his other hand as well and winced. He looked down at the half crumpled yogurt cup and made a face.

    “Gross.” He put the cup onto the discarded plate and looked at the pink mess on his black pants. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he growled, his nose scrunching up in disgust. Lance hummed inquisitively and looked down at Keith’s pants, too.

    He stifled a laugh and helped him clean up as much as he could by way of a spare napkin or three.

    Within a quick moment, the plate was dumped in a trashcan and Lance seemed to be vibrating.

    “I gotta hurry back,” he said as an explanation. “Director’s going to be pissed if I don’t haul ass, you know?”

    Keith nodded. “You had better get going,” he said, making a little shooing movement with his hands. Lance made a move to go and was half turned in the right direction when he whirled right back around and gave Keith a quick peck on the lips.

    “I’ll see you later?” Lance was still close to Keith, blue eyes wide and blinking.

    Keith grinned. “Yeah.” If his voice sounded funny, like his throat was suddenly closed up, Lance didn’t say anything. He only smiled brighter than the sun itself, kissed Keith again (this one was only a little bit longer but seemed to linger on Keith’s lips for hours after it had happened) and turned so he could begin his sprint across the studio floor.

    It took a few minutes and a PA asking if Keith had clearance to be standing there before he actually moved to make it back out to where the company van was parked.

    Alone in the driver’s seat, he allowed himself to grin until his face hurt and he remembered that he still had to get the van back to the cafe. He pulled his seatbelt on, but paused when he checked the rearview. He caught sight of his face in the mirror and it had him whipping out his phone so he could look at his face properly.

    The lower part of his face was smeared in differing directions with makeup that definitely should _not_ have been there and foundation that was not at all his skin tone. Well he had got what he wanted.

    He got to mess up his soulmate’s make up… and kiss the man underneath it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Mikiri and Penny for beta reading this chapter!
> 
> And idk about y'all, but I really liked this chapter. Please tell me what you thought about it with a comment! Or you can drop by and scream at me in person on [tumblr](https://goddammitlance.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I wrote this chapter in the middle of November and I have been Waiting for So Long to share it with you. I hope you liked it...?


	25. Inspiration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you goes out to Mikiri and Penny for reading this chapter over for me!
> 
> And an extra thank you to Penny, because this chapter literally would not exist if not for her and her amazing un-stick-ify-ers and pointers to get me out of my rut.
> 
> AND THEN !!!! I GOT FANWORKS???? My greatest dream has been achieved. I have been Blessed _™_.
> 
> First, the amazing Nabaris made a comic about what would happen if they somehow convinced Keith to be a guest star on Altea. That is [Here](http://nabaris.tumblr.com/post/156837402812/little-joker-allura-somehow-managed-to-convince?is_related_post=1)
> 
> LaughingArcher42 drew Keith with Lance's make up on after _~The Kiss~_ Thank you so much!!
> 
> There's also a fanwork along the same concept by Ranger_Willa, and you will find that [Here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9660254)
> 
> And then another by Nabaris! It is the body paint scene from 24! It's [Here](http://nabaris.tumblr.com/post/156967758412/finally-i-had-the-time-to-make-proper-fanart-for)
> 
> You can go look at these and fawn over them like I have found myself doing! Thank you all again! I love all of your works so much!
> 
> And without further ado, I hope you all like this chapter!

         If there was one thing Keith learned, it was that at times, the people Keith surrounded himself with were unpredictable as the very wind itself. That, and their timing was impeccable.

    Keith was up to his elbows in dishwater when Lance called. He really had no idea how in the hell Lance figured out just how to call whenever he was busy with a task. Sorcery, no doubt.

    He quickly dried off his hands before swiping across the screen and putting the phone to his ear, wincing at a bit of bubbles that he had flicked into the air. They drifted down and landed square under his left eye. He let out a displeased noise as he rubbed muck from his eyes with the palm of his free hand.

    “Do you own a suit?” Lance asked out of nowhere as soon as Keith answered his call.

    “Lan-?”

    “Or any kind of formal wear? It doesn’t matter what kind.”

    Keith frowned slightly both in confusion and in thought. “Uh, I mean… Yeah. I haven’t worn it in like a year and a half, though - since my brother got married. Why do you ask?”

    He could practically feel Lance smile into his words. “Well, let’s just say that I’ve got an idea for some good publicity and that you’re going to really enjoy yourself tonight.”

    Keith raised a dubious eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What are we going to do?” he asked. “Last I heard, you said you were gonna take a break for a few days with the functions and stuff. I mean, Altea got done shooting  _ day before yesterday. _ There was a wrap party yesterday; aren’t you tired?” Logically, Lance should have been. The infamous wrap party seemed to be a hell of a deal, as indicated by the cast and crew’s socials and the tidbits Keith had actually heard from Lance and the others. ( _ It was fucking lit _ , as Lance had so passionately put it.)

    “Trust me, I’m never too tired to see my bae!” Lance proclaimed. Keith pretended that the little twist in his stomach was from exasperation. “And, again, trust me, you’re going to want to come tonight.”

    Keith’s eyebrow quirked. “What is it?” he asked after a beat. “We’re not going after the whole ‘bobble-head from hell’ in Katie and Matthew’s house?”

    “You’ll see!” was Lance’s chipper reply. “When do you get off work?”

    Keith looked to the ceiling, thinking. “Today? Four.” he answered.

    “Okay. Make sure you get cleaned up by five. I’ll pick you up then. Prepare yourself for something amazing!” that was all he said before he hung up, leaving Keith to his questions.

         The rest of the day was filled with the distraction of curiosity. Harassing Lance for answers was definitely a part of it. Texting him throughout the day, in between shifts and on his breaks. Lance didn’t crack, even when Keith sent him a picture of himself in his suit, asking if it was okay enough for the secretive event they were supposedly attending.

    He considered the fact that he still fit into his suit a miracle, having not worn it in nearly two years. And it was an okay fit. There were places that were a bit more snug due to him concentrating more on his body as of late, working out more and establishing an actual routine to do so. The only thing amiss was the jacket. It was tailored to his frame before, but now it was simply too snug. He couldn’t button it and feel comfortable in it, and if he left it unbuttoned then he thought that if just looked… goofy was the correct word, he believed.

    So he left off the jacket and unbuttoned the first button of his shirt, rolling his sleeves up his forearms. It was better.

    He sent the picture to Lance and had to wait all of eighteen seconds for a reply.

_ Lance: _ Oh my damn

    Keith snorted a laugh.

_ Me: _ okay?

_ Lance:  _ Yes.

_ Lance: _ the only thing we gotta change is your hair

    Keith glanced to the mirror and frowned a little. He tilted his chin to the side, looking at the differing angle to his simple ponytail. He huffed.

_ Me: _ What’s wrong with it

_ Lance: _ why must you be like this

_ Lance: _ we got to like

_ Lance: _ make it prettier

_ Me: _ ‘er’ meaning you think my hair is pretty anyway

_ Lance: _ …

_ Lance: _ I’m coming up the elevator pls tell me that you own both a comb and some form of hair gel

    Keith shuddered at the realization of what he had just gotten himself into. He tossed his phone to his mattress and let his hair out from the hair band. He ruffled his hair into its usual shape, unruly at the base of his nape, before making his way out of his bedroom and down the hall. He grabbed his dress shoes off his dresser on the way, holding them in his crooked fingers as he progressed to the front of the apartment. Just about as soon as he came into the kitchen and dropped his shoes on the floor next to a barstool, there was a knock at the door. Keith drew in a breath, steeled himself and opened the door.

    Of course, when Keith steeled himself he was expecting a Lance intent on pulling his hair into an “appropriate” style. He didn’t exactly prepare himself for what  _ Lance _ was going to look like; all dressed up to the nines in an impeccable suit and - of course - perfectly styled hair.

    He looked Lance up and down for a moment, taking the sight in as best he could in the small amount of time he was given before Lance was completely barging into his apartment and dragging Keith further back into his home and to the bathroom.

    “No hello?” Keith grumbled as he was positioned in front of the mirror above the sink so Lance could take a good look at him.

    “Hi,” he said absently. “Now. Where’s your stuff? Brush, comb, styling products?” Keith met his eyes in the mirror and gave him an over dramatic look before pulling a drawer open so Lance could peek inside.

    “This is all of my stuff,” he said.

    Lance poked into the drawer, frowning in disappointment. “Half of this is just makeup,” he commented before demanding, “Where’s the  _ hair _ products?”

    Keith simply shrugged. “That’s all. It should be enough.” It really should have been. There were hair bands, clips and a small assortment of combs and brushes. All Keith’s ever needed before. Surely Lance could work with that, right?

Apparently not, judging by the heel of Lance’s palm connecting with his forehead.

    “ _ No _ , this is not enough!” he chided. He sighed heavily and knocked the drawer shut with his knee. “I could do better with a fork from the kitchen, a bag clip and a very big can of Crisco.”

    Keith rolled his eyes and braced a hand on the counter. “Oh  _ please _ , Ariel. We don’t use dinglehoppers in this household, thanks.” He shot Lance a look, which Lance returned for all of three second before cracking up, giggling at his remark.

    “But seriously,” Lance said between small hiccups of laughter. “Do you have a can of Crisco or nah? I think we’re going to need it.”

    “You are  _ not _ putting Crisco in my hair, Lance,” Keith sniffed. “That’s fucking disgusting.”

    Lance clicked his tongue at him and moved behind him. He ran his fingers through Keith’s hair. It looked as if he was formulating an attack strategy based on the pondering grimace. He shook his head, muttering something about proper hair care under his breath as he went on. “You know I think if my stylist got their hands on you they would just up and shave your head,” he confided. “Your split ends  _ have split ends _ . This is ridiculous, Keith. I’m going to fucking call all this off just to I can get you into a stupid salon as quick as humanly possible.”

    Keith hummed noncommittally. “That’s not such a loss,” he mused. “I don’t even know where the hell we’re going.”

    “Trust me, you’d find it a loss if you knew.” He retrieved a brush from the under-equipped drawer and began to tug it through Keith’s hair, smoothing over frizz. He didn’t find any knots (of course not. Keith brushes his hair, contrary to  _ someone’s _ opinion) and the brush strokes were gentle. Keith found himself letting his eyes slip shut for a minute, enjoying Lance’s fingers fussing in his hair. There was the occasional scrape of nails as he abandoned the hairbrush on the counter so he could fully run his fingers through it all. He took a small section of the front part of his hair, off to the side and pulled it aside. He put the small section in a rubber band and did the same to the mirroring side.

    Keith opened his eyes and met Lance’s in the mirror.  He looked at the small ponytails in his hair and raised his eyebrows carefully, looking in between the strange sight of two bundles of hair poking out from each side of his head and how Lance was going to retrieve a comb from the drawer. “What are you doing?” he questioned.

    Lance looked up at him for a second, comb in hand before he returned to Keith’s hair. He took the right section out of it’s holder and combed through it again before separating it into three parts. “I’m making magic, darling,” Lance said before sticking the thin handle of the comb between his teeth so he could work with his fingers.

    “I didn’t sign up for my hair getting braided,” Keith reminded him.

    Lance gave his hair a soft yank. “This is the price of beauty, Keith. Sometimes you get what you don’t sign up for.”

    Keith gave a small groan, but by the end, accepted his fate.

After all was said and done, Keith’s hair was pulled into a crown of sorts. Both sections of Keith’s bangs were loosely braided along until they met in the back. Lance pinned the ends there with strategically placed bobby pins. 

    “This looks ridiculous,” Keith said, running his index finger down the length of one of his braids. “And sorta girly.”

    Lance stilled for a second. “Um,” he stammered quietly. “Okay. If you don’t want this kind of thing I can take it down and figure something else out…”

    Keith shook his head. “No, it’s fine,” he relented. “It’s kind of funny how easily you did that, though. You do people’s hair often?” He cocked his head the tiniest bit as he looked at the man behind him in the mirror.

    Lance shrugged and gave a smile. “Well, Allura gave me lots of practice doing stuff like this. I’m pretty sure if my hair was long enough again, I could do it to myself.”

    “Again?” Keith interrupted. “You had long hair once?”

    Lance ducked his head and began fussing the the hairs in the back of Keith’s head to give him something to focus on. “Er, I mean, it wasn’t  _ long _ …”

    “No way. No fucking way.” Keith laughed, grinning and emitting delicate snorts along with it. “You totally did! I’m going to ask Allura for pictures, oh my God.”

    Lance groaned with conviction and dropped his head to thump heavily between Keith’s shoulder blades. “I need to stop going to the gym,” he mutters pathetically.

    Keith looks at himself in the mirror in confusion. “Why?”

    “So I can stop being flexible enough to shove my foot in my fucking mouth,” Lance explained. Keith grinned, but spared Lance any more laughter. Instead he prompted Lance to finish up, which he did, fixing his hair with an extremely old can of hairspray he found in the very back of the drawer where it laid on its side.

    There was a few minutes where Lance let Keith gather his things; his phone, wallet and whatever else Keith normally carried on his person, and he was soon herding his soulmate out the door, headed to an undisclosed location that left Keith with  _ many _ questions as they climbed into Lance’s car.

Keith didn’t see it coming.

    He didn’t, and he didn’t know how Lance expected him to. It took a full couple of minutes to sink in, even as they pulled up to the building swarming with cameras and guests all dressed like the pair of them, suits, dresses and all to the nines.

    Lance, as it turned out, had brought Keith to the opening of an art gallery. It was beautiful inside the building, with the typical wide openness of a gallery, topped up to the ceiling with beautiful original works done by many artists, most of whom were lingering around their pieces, some looking nervous with white-knuckled or fluttering hands while visitors passed their pieces.

    “Oh my God, I can’t believe this,” Keith muttered quietly, turning circles in awe, breath bated as he took it all in. His smiled pulled up at the corners, showing off his teeth. “What’s the event?”

    Lance smirked like he knew he had done something utterly and completely  _ right _ . And as far as Keith was concerned, so far he had.

    From a glance (and the pamphlet he was two seconds away from snatching out of Lance’s hands and reading himself) he was told the theme was centered around deep space. Lance continued, “A friend of mine is a beautiful charcoal artist. She owns the galley and is hosting this whole shindig. Says she’s ‘encouraging local talent’ by displaying their works.” There were finger quotes somewhere along there, and a private little smile. “Between you and me, I think she’s more interested in displaying herself.”

    Keith made a face at that, his upper lip lifting ever so much before Lance laughed, wrapping an arm around his waist and leading him along the closest line-up of pieces. “I’m kidding. She’s not  _ completely _ evil. I know she does quite a bit of charity; local projects and stuff. Gets her hands dirty instead of just tossing money at people.” He trailed off, looking over the sea of heads, most likely in search of this friend of his. “Though she is one to show off, given the opportunity.” The musing was almost lost on Keith as his eyes and attention were elsewhere.

    The majority of the works were - well they were there. There wasn’t a way you could generalize them all into specific groups. Some were hanging canvases, others were sculptures on waist-high pillars, still others Keith could barely wrap his head around.  Colors filled his line of sight, each set of them as engaging as the last, each promising something different and completely new in contrast to its predecessor.

He felt like a kid who had just been taken to Disneyworld. Too much to do. So very little time.

    He did end up taking the pamphlet from Lance’s hand, his soulmate willingly surrendering it to Keith, though he didn’t read up much on it because he was a little preoccupied with the paintings themselves.

    The theme was deep space and Keith was not at all disappointed in it. There were nebulas and galaxies everywhere, with the rare alien-based piece or burning star dotting the halls. It was breathtaking. Digital prints were stunning and had obviously taken hours to create. Kinetic sculptures were few and far between in this presentation, but the ones that were present certainly popped out. The mechanics drew Keith’s eyes and he pulled Lance to one of these first. Lance cooed at the ever moving metal balls floating and shifting on their cords in predetermined movements and patterns. Within an hour, all of one half of the presentations had been enjoyed by the pair. Keith had talked to a few artists, taking in their bright, proud smiles and their creative works. Keith felt proud  _ for _ them, if that made any sense. So young and yet here they were, living their dreams.

    It really wasn’t that far into the night when Lance excused himself to find a restroom. Keith agreed to meet him back at a certain triangle of pedestals holding sculptures. He tired to wait for Lance, honest to God he did, but his very being hummed to go on, to take everything in at once and to admire all that he could before the evening drew to a close. There was still so much to see! There wasn’t time to stand about!

    With only a single glance back in the direction of the bathroom, Keith set out on his own to brave the rest of the gallery. He’d come back soon, to retrieve Lance, but for now - he was a lone wolf. With his cheeks puffed out, he made his escape, stepping backwards twice before twirling around and taking off. He revisited the kinetic sculpture first, so he could go back down the opposite path they took from the beginning.

    It was a good choice and he applauded himself for it. Down this area were more paintings. Most of them were simply hanging canvases, huge paintings done in darker colors than the majority of the ones Keith had seen thus far. Two works caught his eye in particular. It was a dual piece, one situated across the floor from the other. On the one to Keith’s right, there was an astronaut in full zero-grav glory, hand reaching out to something just outside of the canvas. The reflective orange visor prevented Keith from seeing the expression of the person in the suit, but one gathered that it was a look of terror when you looked across the hall to find the receptive piece. Across the hall one could see the lifeline the astronaut was reaching for and the safety of the shuttle so far away, planet Earth in the distance behind the shuttle, a comfort, a safe place so far out of reach everything felt hopeless.

    Keith ghosted a curse, his words leaving him in a faint exhale as he peered at the little details on the visor, the reflections Keith found there. The colors were vibrant and deep and eye catching, snatching attention effortlessly from all who passed by.

    The artist, a young woman in a button down shirt and slacks was busy talking to a few admirers and perhaps a few potential buyers, judging by her elated expression and the light in her eyes as she spoke.

    He moved on after a while, thudding down the hall at a leisurely pace that, funnily enough, mirrored the pace Lance going by. His hands swung carelessly at his sides in small circles, his thumbs brushing his outer thighs rhythmically as he went. He was almost to the end of the hall when he stopped short in his tracks.

    His mouth made a little ‘o’ as he did a double take.

    The oblong, stretched canvas hung delicately on the wall with no artists - or anyone, really -  present. It was a painting of a marble, glassy and dark and perfect. Inside the marble were stars. So many clusters, swirling and dancing among the other clusters.

    Keith shifted, rocking on the balls of his feet. His hands were deep in his pockets because they were itching to reach out, to touch something so beautiful he could barely tear his eyes from it. The longer he stared at it and  let his eyes adjust, the more he noticed something a little different that added a whole other aspect to the work.

    The palette was gorgeous, a gradient of blues and a mixture of golds and greens worked into the mix in such a way that the only thing Keith could think of when he looked at it were his soulmate’s eyes, pristine blue with so many depths you feel like you’re drowning in them.

    His head tilted involuntarily. He was so completely enraptured by the work he startled when there was a presence behind him and a hand laid on his lower back.

    “What do you think?” asked the voice in his ear. Keith looked back at his soulmate, his bottom lip trapped between his canines.

    Keith didn’t voice his previous thoughts, just smiled and nodded back at the painting. “It’s amazing.” Simple, to the point, and completely accurate. In all reality, he didn’t know how he could say anything else about it. He didn’t know if he could properly process the words it required.

    “Do you like it?” Lance asked, stepping around and slipping his arm around Keith’s waist.

    Keith simply nodded, reaching his hand up to thread his fingers with Lance’s hand that was resting gently along his hip. “It’s my favorite, so far,” Keith told him. “I don’t even know what to say, I just really like it.”

    Lance clicked his tongue, looking it over. He glanced over at a young man who suddenly appeared, hovering near the presentation. He was tall, with very long, dark hair pulled up and balled into a bun on the crown of his head. Lance stepped up, letting go of Keith as he did. Keith gave a little confused squeak of protest as he watched his soulmate step away.

    “Is this your painting?” Lance asked.

    The boy blinked like a bird. “Yes - yes it is,” he said, nodding vigorously.

    “Cool,” Lance said, a grin clearly evident, even though his back was turned to Keith. “It’s really good.” The young man mumbled an embarrassed thanks, his hands jittering with themselves. Lance tips his head and it clicked for Keith in a split second just what Lance was doing. “Is it for sale?”

    “Actually, yeah, it is.” The young man laughed breathily and reached a hand up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind his ear.

    Lance brightened. “Well then, I would like to take it off your hands, my man.”

    Keith almost passed out from holding his breath as the details were sorted out and plans were discussed for Lance’s personal staff to pick up the piece up the following morning. Keith felt about as excited as the young artist looked. Wonderfully so.

    “Thank you so much,” Keith whispered, once the deed was done and Lance was threading an arm over his shoulder. A small kiss was pressed against the hinge of Lance’s jaw and it had the actor grinning. He held the smile all throughout the rest of the night, as they wound their way through the rest of the presentations they had missed.

         Keith couldn’t describe his feelings coming out of the gallery. He was excited and extremely elated. His fingers itched to create something of his own. Most of all, he wanted to stare at the gifted painting for hours yet to come. It briefly occurred to him that he would need to find a place to hang the artwork.

    “I’m thinking of putting it in the bedroom,” Keith mentioned, looking over the car’s console to Lance. His soulmate’s sunglasses reflected the setting sun as he looked over at Keith.

    There was a small lift of a smile. “Oh yeah?”

    “Yeah; I don’t know where else I could put it, aside from -  _ oh _ , shit, I could put it across from the stairs. You know where you’re just coming down from the loft?”

    Lance nodded thoughtfully. “Sounds good. You see it as you wake up and come down in the mornings.”

    “Exactly. Good mood starter.”

    They shared a smile before Lance’s attention was drawn back to the road ahead of them. Soon enough, the evening’s end was drawing near as Lance pulled into the lower parking space in Keith’s building.

    Lance shut off the ignition and leaned back into his seat, looking towards Keith, watching as a thought seemed to pass over the artist’s face, in the way his mouth twisted and how his fingers fiddled with a fold in his shirt.

    “I feel like I need to go and paint something.” Keith’s tone was resigned, like he fully accepted that he was going to go straight up to his home and break out his paints, working with them enough to soil the clothes he probably wouldn’t bother changing out of.

    Lance smiled faintly at the thought. “Yeah? Like what?”

    Keith shrugged a shoulder. His fingers were itching again. His voice stuttered slightly on the single word, “You.”

    That caught the actor off guard. His eyes widened and he spluttered for a moment. “M-me?”

    “Yeah. I’ve still got that one last theme I need to plan out, anyway. You want to?”

    “Yes.”

    If Lance’s answer was much too quick, Keith didn’t say anything. He only led the way up the elevator and back into his apartment.

    “Where do you want me?” Lance asked. Keith hesitated. He was half out of toeing off his shoes, leaving him to catch his balance for a moment. He considered the question and looked around the apartment. Really, the best lighting for what he wanted was in either the kitchen or his bedroom. Ideally it’d be in the living area, since it was the most open space and the bay windows taking up most all of the far wall gave the most light if the sun was still up. Which it was not. Not entirely, anyhow. It was in the final stages of setting and therefore the living room was taken out of the ‘options’ bin.

    But between the kitchen and his bedroom… Keith wasn’t sure how Lance would feel about his choice. The kitchen’s light was good, but it was too cramped for their purposes. In the bedroom, the light was just as fair and there was plenty of space.

    Despite his inner turmoil, he realized that Lance was waiting for an answer. “The loft is probably the best way to go,” he said finally. If you don’t call it a bedroom, is it really a bedroom? Nah, he decided.

    Lance nodded thoughtfully, his blue eyes flicking up to the ceiling as if he could see the workspace if he looked.

    “I’m going to gather up my art supplies and get changed into something that’s a little more forgiving of paints and stuff. You can take one of the barstools up and go ahead and get ready.”

    “You got it, boss!” Lance said, coming back to himself with a salute and a small wink. He scooped up a black barstool by one of the legs and made his way across the living room and to the set of stairs leading to the loft.

    Keith blew out a breath and gathered himself. Goddamn his impulse control. And by that, he means the lack thereof.

He would chide himself later. He had stuff to do.

    There was clothes on the couch, a crumpled mess as a result of Laundry Day. He filched a tee before finding a pair of gray sweatpants from the pile. They had his university’s name and logo going down the side of one leg in a bold block font.

    He changed quickly, but took care to lay his good clothes out straight over the back of the couch.

    From there, he went to the shelving space under the stairs. They were long and most of the space was taken up by books and little trinkets, but he disregarded those and went straight for the bottommost shelf. This was reserved for his art supplies while he was still getting a proper place set up for them all. He effortlessly found the small box he kept the body paints in and dragged them out. He took off the lid so he could toss a few extra things in the box, such as, but not limited to, a roll of paper towels from the kitchen and an extra palette from the shelf.

    He carried the box upstairs, only to find Lance perched on the barstool, looking down over the edge of the low wall, out to the window.

     “Do you ever think that if you open up the windows, you could do some sick trick shots from up here?” Lance questioned.

    Keith snorted. “I’m pretty sure I would get evicted if I started doing trick shots out of the window.”

    “But they would be  _ awesome _ ,” Lance insisted.

    Keith gave his agreement as he settled the box carefully on the corner of the unmade bed. The next few minutes went by quickly; Lance’s jacket and shirt were carefully discarded on the back of the chair pushed up to Keith’s desk and his back was wiped down. The alcohol wipes were cold (Lance made it a mission to point this out repeatedly), but in order for the paints to actually stick and set well, Lance’s skin had to be clean. Keith explained this to his soulmate, but dear old Lance, as it turns out, is a fucking drama queen.

    Eventually, everything was set and the paints were mixed. Everything was a go and all Keith had yet to do was paint.

    Keith wasn’t so sure that this was a good idea anymore.

    As his clean fingers worked around the blades of Lance’s shoulders and the smooth, warm, beautifully tanned skin bent under the pressure of his fingertips, Keith realized he was fucked. Truly and honestly fucked. He was over and done with. There was absolutely no hope for him on this Godforsaken earth.

He was in love.

    He shivered as if the realization jarred him suddenly. His fingers pressed a little more into Lance’s skin. Lance looked over his shoulder, curious.

    “You good?” he asked, eyes wide and expression incredibly open.

    Keith tried out a smile. It was easier than expected, even if it was a little shaky. “Yeah,” he replied. Lance looked at him for a second longer before shrugging and turning back in his seat.

    “Okay.”

    Keith shook his head, hoping to clear it as much as possible. He took up his dish of paint and looked at Lance’s back, forming a plan. He dipped his fingers into the deep violet and dragged them across the pallet so that he could mix the color with the scarlet. Slowly, with bated breath he outstretched his hand. He worried as his lip in concentration as his fingers hovered against his canvas.

Finally, he touched.

    Warm skin, without blemish or imperfection, was smeared with color - painted with a story.

    It was based off touch and the feeling one gets from a touch. Particularly a touch from their soulmate. In another universe, perhaps, humans retained the ability to change their skin color, sorta like a chameleon, but only when their soulmate touches them.

    So he was mimicking a soulmate’s touch. One of a sexual passion, or desire.

    Basically, this was what seven minutes in heaven looked like if every time your soulmate touched you, a violet color blotted your skin where that contact happened.

    Keith dipped his other hand into the same colors after placing the dish on the table so he could use them both. He tripped his fingers and the sides of his palms around Lance’s shoulders, mixing paint and creating something truly beautiful, trying to mimic a lover’s touch. He blew out a breath, keeping the image in his head about what this was supposed to look like. His eyebrows furrowed. The theme for this particular section was lust - passion. Eros.

    Keith twisted his wrist and pressed his hand fully against Lance’s side, making it look like if he were standing in front of Lance. He looked at that dark hand print and his eyebrows jumped.

    “Lance, stand up,” he said, prodding a little piece of bare shoulder with the back of his wrist.

    “Em… Okay?” Lance did as he was told, turning to stand so that he could face Keith. “And do what?”

    Lance’s eyes flicked over Keith’s face for a second. Keith looked like he had just struck gold. “Stay still.” The order was given and Lance was instantly following, going tense, rigid. Keith stepped forward to him and raised his hands a little. “Relax. For this part, it’s supposed to be passion, right? It doesn’t really make sense if the handprints are backwards.”

    Lance seemed to understand as Keith hooked his arms under Lance’s and put them on his shoulders. Lance was suddenly smirking. “You just wanna feel me up!” he burst out laughing.

    Keith rolled his eyes. “No,” he chided. Yes, he knew. “It’s for the project. And stand up straight and be a professional, Mr. Ego-Too-Big-For-Your-Head.”

    Lance did as he was told, but the smirk didn’t fade from his lips. That made it just a little bit harder, honestly. They weren’t pressed together by any means. Their bodies weren’t even touching save for their arms and Keith’s hands on Lance’s back. And even though they weren’t, they may as well have been. Keith could smell that cologne Lance liked. He could feel Lance’s breath disturbing the hairs on top of his head as Keith’s head was tilted, looking to the side as he concentrated on just where to touch.

    Gentle pats of his hands, squishing over places where paint was already placed and ghosting touches around Lance’s sides. It was messy, but it was supposed to be. After all, when was love ever  _ not _ messy?

    Keith glanced up at Lance’s face. His eyes were closed and he looked intensely relaxed. Keith bit his lip. It would be so easy to lean up; it would be so easy to kiss him. To ghost a kiss over his lips in just the same way he touched his skin. Suddenly Lance’s eyes were fluttering open and catching Keith’s eyes. Keith blinked, realizing he’d been caught. He opened his mouth to give an explanation, to maybe tell him to shut his eyes again because he’s making this weird, but he didn’t get a chance.

    He didn’t get a chance because Lance leaned down the tiniest bit. His eyes flicked from Keith’s eyes to his mouth. There was something undoubtedly there and Keith was- well he-

He wanted it; he wanted it so badly.

    So he leaned up. He met Lance halfway and he kissed him. Lance seemed to have been taken by surprise, no matter how slow the buildup was, because all of the air in his lungs was exhaled through his nose and he gasped. He disregarded Keith’s earlier call for him to stand still because he was reaching up. He put his hands on Keith’s hips and pulled his body closer. Keith’s left hand was on the nape of Lance’s neck while his right was gripping onto his shoulder.

Keith was suddenly very thankful he’d asked Lance up.

    He was even more thankful to whatever supernatural force that was supposedly upstairs when Lance cupped his cheek and tilted his head so the kiss could be deepened. His breath was caught and his hand slid down, thumb tracing numerous circles into the paint forgotten on Lance’s skin.

    When they parted for a breath, there was bodypaint on Keith’s sheets and a definite decision that the paint had to be redone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Relish this moment.  
> When everything is ok.
> 
> [:)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=onPaMnxQ3lo)
> 
> [Tumblr](https://goddammitlance.tumblr.com/)


	26. The Morning After Reprise (The Blade That Cut Colors)

         There was a crippling  _ something _ in Keith chest. It was winding and spiny and desperate and all at once terrible. Where Lance touched him, there used to be fire. There used to be passion and want. It was colder now, in this moment. The arms cradling him left him with a chilling feeling, leaving him with goosebumps and a terrible fear in his stomach. This is exactly where he didn’t want to be. He went too fast, he feared. He still loved Lance, still wanted him sorely but there was the underlying issue if Lance wanted the same - if Lance wanted Keith back and loved him as much as Keith loved him. He circled the dreaded pit and dove in head first, willing and not at all ready.

    There was nothing left to do but fall, to drown. He didn’t want to fall but there he was, tumbling down faster than he could stop himself. Heaving breath and scrabbling fingers couldn’t help him. There was never enough air in his lungs and there was never a surface for him to solidly cling to. The days of steady ground were over. He had ended them the second he’d let Lance kiss him; they were gone the moment he tumbled into bed with Lance.

    Now there was the crippling self doubt that clawed at his throat and kept him from breathing right. He could feel the back of this throat constricting and the weird prickling in his eyes and the taste in his mouth that clung to the back of his tongue.

    Why exactly would Lance love him like that? All logic says that he probably wouldn’t. They’ve known each other for all of three and a half months and the absolute only reason their worlds collided and they met was the off chance that they were soulmates. If Lance hadn’t have met Keith, everything would have kept on being normal. He would have went to school, worked at the coffee shop, painted, waited with bated breath for some normal schmuck to come along. With some normal schmuck, this would have been simpler, Keith knew. There wasn’t thousands of eyes on their every move, wanting another perfect soulmate story to play out. They would have been ordinary people who could have their ordinary lives out of the public’s eye. They could have kept to themselves, taken as long as they had wanted in their relationship, starting from the ground up. They wouldn’t have to deal with the bullshit of paparazzi and tabloids stalking them to so much as get a comment about Happy Life with their soulmate.

    What happens if he breaks things off with Lance? If  _ this _ were a thing to be broken… how we he do it? There’d be no cutting him off and going about normal life. It was too late for that, after all. It was too late for normal. If he broke things off, there was no more covering over his Soul Mark with a bright, distracting tattoo that would wind up his wrist, covering his Mark like his father had done. There was no new dating and adopting new marks to his skin to try and fool the peers around him. There wasn’t any of that because everyone already knew his soulmate. They would know that he and his soulmate had parted ways and they they couldn’t take each other any longer. They had admitted that their universal partner wasn’t good enough for them and that they weren’t compatible with their Universe-Intended.

    That was painful enough, to have people mock you for your failed relationship, but it was even worse when you actually loved your partner and it was your fault for having too many insecurities because of your parent’s relationship. There was something striking about your parents splitting up. It was traumatizing enough - your perfect family splitting because it wasn’t perfect after all. There was the legal side of everything. There was joint custody of all three of them, but they all stayed with their mother for the most part. There were the small times spent with their father but as soon as the  _ girlfriend _ came along, the times got more and more uncomfortable. And there was the teasing from their school mates. Of course things had gotten around. The grapevine worked quickly. Soon all three Kogane children were being teased on the actions of their parents, saying that they would probably all end up the same way - broken and alone with nobody to love them.

    It was cruel yes, and Keith knew that it wasn’t true in the slightest. They weren’t their parents. They could have healthy, successful relationships. They wouldn’t rush into things before they could map out their footing and way to go.

At least, that’s what Keith had thought.

    He’d tried. He took his mom’s advice and made sure to get to know his soulmate. He tried to get to know him, his quirks, his positive sides and his negative ones. The way he grossly loved pineapple and how he detested dry skin and varying flavors of gum. He had tried to go slow and take his time. But every baby step he took, he found himself wanting to leap. He wanted to throw his arms around Lance and kiss the ever living breath out of him. He wanted to love his soulmate but he had told himself that he couldn’t so many times that he had began to believe it. He was too afraid of becoming his parents that he started to believe that he didn’t have a chance. There wasn’t hope, he had told himself. There would never be. There would be one moment of fire, a burst of flame and passion before he was swallowed up.

    He would love; and he would love intensely. He wouldn’t want to let go. He didn’t want to let go, even now.

_     He didn’t know if Lance felt the same. And what if Lance didn’t know, either? If Lance didn’t know, then what hope did Keith have of winning over a heart that might not even be available to be won? _

    Keith knew what he felt, and that was scary. He didn’t know how Lance felt and seemingly, as far as Keith knew, neither did he - and that was even scarier.

Just when did Keith become such a coward? When did he take his impulsive nature and stuff it in a box to be taped shut?

    He didn’t know, but he knew that for the most part, it had worked out for him.

    With a shaky inhale, he moved his hand off of Lance’s, down to the bed sheets. They were cold, a product of sleeping without the comforter and the ceiling fan on, Keith supposed. It was still dark in the room but early morning light tried to poke in through the windows, signalling that it was time to wake up and face the sunshine. It was time to wake up and face the truth of what had happened the night before. He was left to face the problem that was the man lying in his bed behind him with arms wrapped about his person and legs tangled in with his own.

    He cursed. He didn’t bother to hush his voice. He only shifted away from Lance, curling the arm under his pillow so it was pressed tighter to him. Slowly, he was able to untangle their legs and remove himself from Lance’s grip so he could sit up and scoot away from his soulmate.

    From there he let out a breath. He counted the seconds in between inhales and exhales, forcing himself to breath in a rhythm that calmed him, even marginally.

    There was a rustle behind him as Lance shifted, jerking slightly as he woke from his sleep. Keith watched as he smacked his lips and felt around for Keith beside him. There was a slight crease between his eyebrows and he cracked his blue eyes open only the tiniest bit so he could look over at Keith. “Good morning,” he said. His voice was groggy and cracked slightly in between words. Keith hummed an acknowledgment. Lance reached over and traced a little pattern in Keith’s thigh with his fingertips. Keith almost had the urge to jerk away.

    “God,” Lance muttered. He rolled onto his back and stared up to Keith’s ceiling, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. He made a low sound as he pulled himself to sit up, one hand on the sheets, the other carding through his hair. “That was wonderful. Why didn’t we start doing that a long ago?” He made a soft sound that sounded to Keith like a little giggle as he reached across to the nightstand so he could grab at his wristwatch and put it on

    “I didn’t want to,” Keith told him softly. He was up off the bed quickly, searching for clothes. He ended up pulling on an old tee and his discarded sweatpants from the night before. His binder was across the room but he didn’t bother to put it on right now. Especially since he was so… dirty.

    Lance rolled his head and looked over to him. His voice was inquisitive and his expression was pinched. “Wha’d’ya mean?”

    Keith looked over his shoulder to Lance with a look that Lance had never received after just climbing out of bed with someone. It was like Lance had just offended him on the highest level or something like that. He shivered and sat up quickly.

    “Hold on a minute.” Keith didn’t. He made to leave the room, leaving Lance to jump out from the sheets and scramble for his clothes. “Dammit Keith, wait a second!” He struggled into his underwear and pants at the same time as he followed after, stumbling along the way. Keith stopped right before the doorway and turned to look at Lance, his face stoic as he tried to put a lid on his emotions.

    “What.”

    “You didn’t  _ want to _ ?” Lance asked. His voice was shaky, bordering on fearful. “Before or last night?” His eyes widened. “Did you want to last night? I-If you didn’t want to you should have said. Keith-!”

    “That’s not what I meant!” Keith growled, low in his chest. “Last night doesn’t  _ matter _ , Lance.” Keith’s expression was pained. He took a breath. “I wanted to, but-” he cut himself off, trying to think how to proceed. “It can’t happen again.”

    The relief on Lance’s vanished between two of Keith’s erratic breaths. He wasn’t sure why he was breathing so shallowly, but it was concerning. He suddenly felt too exposed. There were goosebumps rising on his arms and he wanted to rub furiously at them. He didn’t; his arms stayed at his sides, fingers loosely closed and close to the palm.

    “Why?” The crack in Lance’s voice felt like a slap to Keith’s face. “Did I do something? Overstep a boundary?”

    Keith shuffled uncomfortably, trying and failing to come up with the proper words. “No. It wasn’t  _ you _ …” He couldn’t form the words. “I  _ can’t _ , Lance. You don’t understand. I don’t want-!” He made a frustrated sound and gestured a hand between them.

    “What, sex?” Lance interrupted. His face looked thoroughly hurt and confused. “We don’t have to do that if you don’t want to. How could you think that I would pressure you into something like that!?”

    “That’s not what it is!” Keith snapped, his frustration broadening to cover Lance as well as Keith. His frustration was building, like steam in a teapot. He felt like he could scream.

    “Then tell me what happened! I need to know if I-”

    Keith groaned, tearing at his hair with a fierce grip. “ _ This isn’t about you! _ ” he burst, furious.

    “Then what is it? Is this one of those ‘ _ it’s not you, it’s me’ _ bulllshit conversations?” Lance demanded.

    “Not everything is about you,” Keith told him. His chin was trembling and his fingers were fully clenched, now. “Not everything is just about you and your fucking ego-inflated head. Sometimes it’s about the other goddamn person in the situation!”

    Lance was getting angry now, too. He snatched angrily at yesterday’s shirt on Keith’s desk chair and yanked it on. He glared furiously at Keith after he had pulled the piece of clothing on, his jaw set and blue eyes alit like fire. “Then what  _ fuck _ is it about?”

    That wasn’t a question Keith could answer, not without more words and time than he could handle with his emotions raw and as exposed as they were. It would take too long to explain. They had all day, there was plenty of time, his mind tried to reason. It hurt too much. He was always told that he should talk out his hurt, the stupidly right half of his brain added to the inner conversation.

    Keith cast around for an answer. Something that was truthful and would hopefully defuse the situation.

    He made a keening sound, one high in his throat at his inability to find a correct answer.

    “It just can’t happen,” he said when he couldn’t find a solid reason without reliving and exploring everything he had just a few minutes ago, while cuddled down in Lance’s arms. He shifted his jaw and stood straighter, standing with his answer. “It just  _ can’t _ , okay?” He wanted to wrap his arms around himself and lock himself in a dark room, away from Lance and this situation. “We have to just go back to what we were before.” He was talking to the floor now, eyebrows pinched as he stared as his abandoned backpack, still open with his sketchbook poking haphazardly out of its mouth. He took a breath and hoped that it would steady him. It felt heavy. Maybe if he held it long enough it would travel down to his feet and keep him grounded. “ _ Friends _ ,” he clarified hopelessly. He prayed under his breath to God that Lance wouldn’t be angry. That he would understand. Keith knew he would be. But he could pray.

    He flicked his eyes to Lance’s.

    He didn’t know how to describe the emotion there but he knew two things. It wasn’t positive. And it wasn’t understanding.

    Lance’s nose drew up in what could be said was disgust and his eyebrows drew down. He snatched at his jacket on the floor before he was moving.

    Lance pushed past Keith and left the room with anger pulsing in his veins. He couldn’t explain the anger that he felt as intensely as he did. He couldn’t justify it, couldn’t rationalize it but by God, it was  _ there _ . He barely managed to get to the foot of the steps before Keith was able to speak up.

    “Lance,” Keith breathed, reaching out for his arm as he caught up.

    Lance whirled around on him, eyes cold and hard and impossibly cold. Colder than Keith had ever seen them. Lance jerked his arm back to his side and his wristwatch caught hold of the light so that the glass face gleamed almost as dangerous as his eyes. “Don’t. Don’t  _ play with me _ !” he shouted. “You can’t just-!” He broke off, making an enraged noise, waving his fisted jacket in the air in a fit of movement. “You can’t just do  _ that _ with me-” he paused after his voice broke, seemingly growling to himself for a brief second. “-a-and expect things to go back to normal. It’s not, okay?! It’s just- It’s just not.” He sneered and Keith’s eyes widened in shock at his tirade. “I mean you maybe can, but I  _ can’t _ . Now that I know what that felt like-,”

    “What it  _ felt  _ like?” Keith questioned, sneering. “So… what. We fuck and now everything’s gotta change?” His voice went high with disbelief and he hated it.

    “Well it isn’t going back to how it was before!” Lance snapped right back. “That isn’t how it fucking works, Keith.”

Keith knew that.

He fucking knew that.

    But he could hope. He could shut his eyes against the logic and the fact that he knew that’s not how things work, and he could be stubborn.

    There was a small lapse. Festering anger and outright disbelief filled the space between them.

    “So what happens?” Lance asked. It sounded like he was talking from behind his clenched teeth. “If we can’t go back to how we were like you want and we can’t go forward like I want, what’s gonna happen, Keith?”

    “I,” he hesitated. He didn’t know. There wasn’t a forward and there wasn’t a backward. There wasn’t a sideways, either. There was here. There was now. There was a choice. A choice to sit Lance down and explain everything he didn’t have words for, or there was the option of separation. To remove himself from this situation and from this relationship. He knew that if he didn’t pick the first option the second was inevitable. If there weren’t words then there would be Lance walking out. Keith didn’t know if he could handle seeing Lance’s back as he stomped through his apartment towards the door to the hallway.

But he couldn’t find the words.

    “I don’t know,” he said. It sounded hopeless, bitter. He didn’t know how to convey his feeling with words. He couldn’t work out a sentence that could work or fix this. “Jesus,” he muttered. “I don’t know.”

    Keith looked at Lance and watched how the tendons in his jaw flexed, clamping shut as he ground his molars together. He watched as his soulmate’s nostrils flared in a exhale Keith could practically feel from feet away.

    Lance worried into his bottom lip with his canine and looked at anything in the room but Keith, thinking. He hesitated, shaking his head a little. “This isn’t helping anything,” he said, almost to himself. “Keith, I can’t do this. There isn’t anything we can do to make both of us happy. I won’t push if you don’t want anything to do with me, but after last night - hell after we kissed in the studio - there was no going back after that. Not for me, at least.” He looked like he wanted to say so much more. Keith couldn’t look at his face after he had said that. Lance’s hands were fidgeting at his sides, his fingers moving strangely, flexing and forming letters he knew Lance could make but letters that Keith couldn’t read. Keith didn’t understand it but then again he didn't understand anything at that moment. His chest felt like it was drawing in on itself, like it was squeezing in on his heart too hard and leaving an open cavity there in its place. God, it  _ hurt _ .

    Lance took a breath. He shrugged on his jacket, taking the time to straighten his sleeves and button it up. “I’m gonna go.” He nodded his head to the door. “If you decide that you want to find a way to make this work, call me.” Keith felt like his soul left his body for a moment. His chest didn’t feel light, but it felt empty as he watched Lance move.

    Sure to his words, Lance did leave. The door didn’t close all the way in his hurry. It bounced carelessly off the lock and left an inch gap open. He could hear the footsteps fade away to nothing. Absolute nothing but silence.

He let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

    There was the choice he had made. Separation.

    There was the temptation to run after him, but he knew that his effort would prove fruitless. There would be no reward if he caught him just before the elevator came with words like “Stop” “Wait” and “I love you.” The time for those words had passed with Lance as he let the door trail shut behind him. The chance that Keith would ever get him back was slim. Slim as the crack in the door.

    Just as realization hit him, his knees were buckling. He hit the ground with a thump with the heels of his palms pressed hard into the hardwood flooring of his living room. A breath. And then another. Soon one led into the next and each one heaved in his lungs. His eyes stung but he didn’t care. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. No breath was deep enough. No breath was enough to calm him. Lance was gone. Keith let the man he loved walk right out of his front door, silently watching. He did nothing and he certainly felt the weight of that on his shoulders at that moment. He felt it with every breath, every pulse through his pounding heart. He felt it in the pounding in his skull. Most of all, he found it in the silence and the emptiness of the room.

It hurt. Impossibly so.

         It took an hour for Keith to pick himself up. Not figuratively. He simply got up from the floor and moved to shut and lock his door.

    He didn’t know what to feel from there. The world continued to turn. Day followed day... He distracted himself with his paintings (they were back to dark colors. The days of light and happy were not these ones) and his classes. He was glad for the routine. There was something to cling to, something to do to keep his hands busy.

    He longed for the days when he still had a shared apartment, when he got home and there was a roommate and her noise to cushion the silence or keep him busy. His fingers itched for more than just his paintbrushes after a week. He itched for something to help him feel okay again - because right now, he certainly did not feel okay. He felt empty and alone. There were no familiar faces in his routine. There were classmates he ignored and the voices of his professors that he took notes on. He hadn’t called Julie, only exchanged a few short texts that were mostly small talk. He hadn’t gone to see his sister, his brother was all the way in Maine and he hadn’t  _ dared _ to go to his mother.

So he bottled.

    He stamped it all down and didn’t think about it. He distracted himself. He didn’t let it bother him as Lance let the silence stretch between them. He didn’t think about how Lance was the one who said “call me” and how it was in fact Keith that was letting it stretch on longer.

It was his silence that caused all of this in the first place.

    He hadn’t picked up his camera in weeks. He couldn’t. There’d been countless things he would possibly regret not capturing later, but for right now he didn’t care. Taking a photo meant capturing a piece of the real world, a still of events happening at that second. He didn’t like the world right now. He didn’t want reminders that he was in this awful, fucked up, hell hole that he lived in. This universe that everyone thought took care of them, paying back bad deeds with bad consequences, keeping the universal equilibrium that kept their lives spinning. He didn’t want to live here anymore.

    Everywhere he went, even the little places where the crowds were sparse and the talk dwindled to where it was just a little buzz in the quiet background, everyone knew his name and face. Sometimes they called him by his deadname, though most used his real one. It was hard to be surprised by it all now. People would stop him on the street, wide eyed and excited. They’d shake his hand, roughly jarring him like he was being grabbed by the shoulders and shook until they got his head straight. They would ask him about Lance, and about Keith’s abrupt disappearance from his social medias. Keith made excuse that he wouldn’t recall later that allowed him to back away and go about his day. A little more sullen and a little more broken.

    He could avoid it by being cooped up in his apartment all day after he had left the classes that had began again in the following days. He had requested time off of work, so aside from his classes he was staying home. In his room, in the dark. Even there, the walls got to him. He’d lie on his bed, staring at the ceiling above as he felt the walls close in on him. When he flicked his eyes too look back at the dull painted cage he’d put himself in, they would be still; sitting exactly where they were the last time he’d looked. It was only when he looked back to the ceiling that the feeling crept up his spine, the clawed fingers leaving him shuddering, feeling choked. It was suffocating, but it was better than the weight pitted in his stomach every time he left the protective barriers that weren’t as good for him as they seemed.

    He absently heard the soft clamoring outside from his opened window behind his curtains, blaring sirens, running trucks and people fucking around on the street below. Nothing big enough to prompt him to get up from the spot on his bed after he had settled there. There was nothing to disrupt the steady cycle that had Keith constantly looking from the ceiling to the dull walls that were all too bare. Nothing to bother him except the chiming phone he never looked at longer than to occasionally check the time.

    It was seldom that he got up the effort to eat. He’d heave himself up from the bed he hadn’t made since the second day in his apartment and he’d creep down the stairs to the kitchen. A sleeve of dry crackers was all he could stomach some days. Other days he would put forth the effort to put together a cold sandwich. He would eat half and pick up a slew of water bottles to store in his room. That’s when he would break down and shower, his oily skin and hair that stuck to the back of his neck getting to him the worst. He’d get under water of extreme temperatures and scrub at his scalp, eventually scrubbing at his skin until he turned a bright pink with nail marks crisscrossing on his arms to stand out among the flush. They stung and he was grateful. The hazy pain kept him grounded, standing on the tiles of the bathroom with the too-hot water pounding into his back while he inhaled the steam deep into his lungs.

    He wouldn’t accept any calls - he was sure that his inbox was full by now. The one call he wanted never came and he ignored all of the others he received along the way.

    So after everything, Keith had no idea what had tipped him. It was like switch had clicked or a match was flicked across sandpaper. A fire was lit and where there was cold and self-deprecation there was rage. Hotter than when he had watched Lance leave his apartment for the last time. It burned him from the inside out, filling his chest with an unbearable  _ something _ in his chest where nothing was before.

    He looked around his apartment as he came down from his bedroom one morning, at the pretty colors of the walls and the sight of his paintings leaning against the walls and few unpacked boxes. The bright colors, the light blues and reds. The folders he knew contained his loose sketches and drawings.

    And then there was an urge. A need. A  _ need _ to rip the colors. Burn them until they muddled into a deep, dark tolerable brown. They needed to burn. They needed to be gone.

    With that thought in his mind, he moved. There was a pair of scissors in the kitchen drawer closest to the fridge. He retrieved them quickly and stomped back into the living room, the orange-handled blade clenched tightly in his hand.

    He started with a canvas. It was large and dealt in primary colors. With the scissors open wide, a gash was tore into the face of the work. The pretty flower-resemblance was torn to shreds and was left to sit in a useless heap. The fire inside of him only grew from there. He felt better after the painting. He felt Something with a capital S. He didn’t care that it was violent and lashing. It was Something.

    (Keith wondered, if idly, what had happened to the painting Lance had purchased for him. The crate was never delivered - never to Keith, anyhow. For all Keith knew, Lance could have very well have had it delivered to his own home instead, keeping the artwork for himself. In the inner corners of his mind, the ones that held  _ higher thought _ and all that jazz,  he was bitterly thankful that Lance hadn’t sent it to him. It was one thing, destroying his own artwork - a complete different matter when it came to another person’s. And he had no doubt that if the piece had been on hand, there would have been no mercy for it. Such a reminder of Lance should have no place in the too-big, too-silent apartment.)

    It was dangerous, that addicting  _ Something _ . It drove him to the folders next. He grabbed a random olive colored one and planted himself right in the middle of his living room, his back to the light, to the window and he  _ shredded _ . Every picture, every sketch, they were subjected to the gleaming blade of his scissors. He didn’t pause; he didn’t  _ think _ . There was the feel of the paper being cut into several pieces, the feel of smudged artwork under his fingers and the crawling sensation under his skin.

    There was no hesitation as he tore through the chalk on black paper next. At least there wasn’t with the little girl in the sun. There wasn’t with the pool of water under the tree. Those were added to the pile of destruction in sad pieces that could never be mended no matter how much Scotch tape it craved to bandage it and make it better. But he did pause at one. It was on black paper. Blue and red chalk in heavy blocks of color, blending out to a soft lavender at the top of the page. The dark charcoal gray flower with its crinkled petals. This one, he didn’t cut.

He paused.

He  _ stared _ .

He breathed.

    The fire had died out. It was like a great floodgate had been pried open and Keith was left to be filled with cold aching water that made his fingers tremble against themselves. It made his hands want to lock and never open again, much less cut through another page.

    Trembling, he put the scissors down. The air felt like it had been sucked out of his lungs as he turned his left hand to look at the mark he had been avoiding. The thin, black numbers, the little green stem leading to the real crinkled petals tattooed into his skin. The mark of his failure. The mark that reminded him that while he had tried to fight for Lance in his own way he had ended up shoving him away, watching as a rift between them widened into a chasm.

    Like a coward, he hadn’t called. He’d waited for Lance to call him like an absolute idiot. He fucked things up, and expected Lance to fix them. Like a child he had made a mess and expected someone else to clean it all up and kiss it better.

    He couldn’t understand how he got to this point; he didn’t know how he got this low.

    Maybe he had become his parents, after all.

Wait - what was he saying? Even his parents lasted longer.

    What an idiot. What an absolute goddamn idiot.

    With a heaving breath, he picked himself up from the floor. He left the folder and the shreds on the floor in the piles he had created. He left the scissors, too as he passed by to the open kitchen. He slid the little drawer by the fridge shut, as he had left it open moments before. With shaky hands, he took a frying pan from a lower cabinet and settled it on the range top before clicking on the stove to a low heat. From there he cooked his first meal in what had to have been weeks. Two fried eggs over toast wasn’t much and Keith knew this. It felt like a lot more than it was, even thought it wasn’t hard to make in the slightest. Keith knew it shouldn’t have exhausted him, but by God, he felt drained.

    From there he piled his dishes into the sink, not bothering to wash them before he went back up the steps and to his bed. He sat at the foot of the bed, on the floor. He drew his legs up to his knees and gasped his breaths, his actions finally catching up to him. Before he knew it, for the first time in a very, very long time, Keith cried. Hot, uncomfortable, fat tears that dripped down his cheeks and chin until they streaked and dripped down his neck. Keith hated crying; he was a very ugly crier, with red eyes and heaving sobs that yielded the worst, most pitiful noises Keith was capable of.

    People say that it’s good to cry sometimes.

Keith wasn’t so sure of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have passed through the eye of the hurricane and are now in the very throes of the storm.
> 
> Hope y'all had fun! Leave me a comment! I reside on [tumblr](https://goddammitlance.tumblr.com/). Feel free to come scream/converse at/with me!
> 
> Thank you to Penny, my enabler. I blame most of everything on her. And thank you to Mikiri! I'll pay for any tissues you used, no worries!


	27. LANCE VASQUEZ HOSPITALIZED. SOULMATE SHUT OUT!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clickbait title af  
> what's a kid gotta do?

         Tuesday of that week was surely something. It didn’t really have a beginning, as Monday bled into Tuesday like red into yellow to orange. Keith was awake from three that morning. He didn’t keep regular sleeping patterns anymore. That took too much thinking and planning to stick to, he thought. Why keep a schedule when you can just sleep whenever the notion strikes you? (That notion struck quite a bit more frequently than normal lately, but really, what was Keith’s normal anymore?)

    He was awake at the moment, clicking a hair clip over and over, open and shut between his fingers. The steady clicking helped him zone out, to relax almost enough to sleep. It was one of the times that he actually wanted to sleep, but his body wasn’t letting him do so. He had his mind set on the thick blanket of unconsciousness that allowed no stray thought into his mind. Of course he wasn’t allowed that small comfort. He was left to click his hair clip and stare off blankly through the windows, chest tight and body buzzing with unused and unwanted energy.

    The ripped canvas curled at his feet, his mangled scraps of drawings strewn around the foot of the couch he was reclining on.

    He looked at them and felt no good thing. It was all dark and gripping. It felt sort of like a disappointment, like he was disappointed in himself for destroying something that took so much time to create or maybe that he was just disappointed in himself for leaving the evidence out for all its viewing glory. He didn’t know, so he didn’t look.

    He thought, if not for the first time, that his apartment was too big for him. There was too much space for a singular person who did nothing but putz around whenever he was home, wallowing in self pity and loneliness. There was too much space. It was big enough for the emptiness to bounce around between walls, taunting Keith with a shrill call to reality. Lance had been able to fill the space, fill the silence.

Click, click, click.

    When his phone rang, he barely heard it, as he was so focused on the repetitive click of the hair clip. His anchor. He blinked several times as the ringer pierced through his haze and seeped into recognition. He didn’t know why he picked it up. It was an unlisted number calling at nearly five in the morning. Any sane person, or like in Keith’s case, a person with a sudden aversion to answering any and all calls, would have just avoided the random early morning call.

He had no solid idea or reason for why he picked up.

    “Hello?” God, was that  _ his _ voice? He was forgetting how it sounded. It was hoarse from disuse and it cracked on the last syllable.

     “Keith?” The clear cut, fearful voice had Keith letting the hairclip slip from his fingers to clatter to the wooden floor.

    “Allura?” he asked. His chin trembled and his brow furrowed. “What- Why are you calling me?”

    “I, um.” She took a breath. “Lance told me not to call, but he’s asleep right now.” There was something about that sentence that didn’t sit right with Keith.

    He was half bent over to pick up the clip again when he spoke. “‘Llura, you know that Lance and I aren’t-.”

    “Yes, I know. Not speaking. Taking a break.” She sounded like she was on the verge of a breakdown, all shaking emotional vulnerability and everything. The tremor in her voice sounded so incredibly  _ wrong _ and it chilled Keith to the very bone.

    “What’s wrong?” he found himself asking, sitting up without the clip, letting his feet drop to the floor as he did.

    “It’s a matter of paperwork, really. They’ve told Lance that he needs a soulmate in order to discharge today, like he wants. He’s gone stir crazy and needs to go home, Keith.” Keith, for one, was officially lost. Maybe it was the fact that he hasn’t slept peacefully for days, or perhaps it was simply the fact that Allura was speaking in code. Either way, he was completely, utterly, confused.

    “What are you talking about?” he said, interrupting a sentence that he hadn’t been listening to.

    “I’m sorry, what?” Allura asked, backtracking.

    Keith sighed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Where is Lance, again?”

    Allura’s gasp was barely audible. “So you don’t know.”

    “Don’t know  _ what _ ?” Keith simply did not have the energy to try and keep up with this game of twenty questions.

    “I’m going to send a car over, it will be there in half an hour. I need you to come here to sign the papers Lance needs to go home from the UCLA hospital.”

As if Keith’s life wasn’t fucked up by itself.

         The hospital was a busy one, but it hadn’t taken Keith all that long to locate the front desk and get squared away with where he needed to go. A young nurse directed him to the elevator and to which nurse station he was then to check up on.

    He tumbled out of the elevator among a batch of bright-eyed soon-to-be doctors. He caught his lip in between his teeth as he ambled down half the hallway to the obvious half-counter manned by a few nurses. He gripped his elbow for stability as he neared it, catching the attention of one a young man clicking through a computer. He looked up, blinking owlishly.

    “I’m here for paperwork,” Keith croaked. His voice was still on the edge of cracking every other syllable. He really needed a glass of water. “Uhm… discharge papers for Lance Vasquez-McClain-Harris.”

    The young man’s eyebrows furrowed deeply. “Vasquez-McClain-Harris?” he repeated. He stood up from his chair and began to sort through various charts sitting in an organized pile. He took one up and flipped through it quickly. “Here it is,” he hummed, almost to himself. “R Soulmate listed is a Keith Kogane, P Soulmate is a Hunk Garrett. No spouse, but his next of kin is Allura Vasquez-McClain-Harris.” He looked up from his chart. “I’m assuming you’re one of his soulmates, right?”

    Keith made to run his fingers through his hair, but stopped at his fringe. He cringed at the oily feel of his hair and resorted to only tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear. “Yeah, his Romantic. Keith Kogane.”

    “Okay, you’ll need to provide identification before you get to any of the paperwork. Department of Soulmate Security card or driver’s license would be fine.” Keith provided his ID (he didn’t even have a DSS card to produce, so there was no other option, really) and the young man took it and looked it over.

    Keith rocked on the balls of his feet as he waited. His eyelids started to droop. That snatch of sleep he craved earlier was trying to worm its way under his eyelids, becoming more tempting by the second. It wasn’t until the young man cleared his throat that Keith’s eyes popped open again.

    “Sorry, what?” he muttered. He was almost ready to pass out on his feet.

    “Your ID does not hold the same name as Mr. Vasquez’s chart,” the nurse explained.

    Keith bit his lip and sighed through his nose. “Okay, look. I’m an transmasculine person who just hasn’t petitioned to change my name yet. It’s a fucking process. Please, can I just sign whatever I need to?”

    The man passed back his ID with a frown and a little shake of his head. “Look sir, I’m sorry. If your Romantic would have put your legal name down on the paperwork, then you could have taken him as soon as he’s cleared - but he didn’t. I’m sorry, Mr. Kogane, you can’t sign off on any of these forms.”

This time Keith really did run his hand through his hair.

    “Is there  _ any _ way to-?”

    “Keith, you’re here!”

    Keith cut himself off, looking down the hall to an upcoming Allura. She looked worse for wear, what with her hair frizzy and half put up in a ponytail and her rumpled clothing. She looked between the two, puzzled by the tension and the lack of paper shuffling. “What’s going on?” she asked. The situation was explained to her by the bright eyed young man behind the counter. After it was all explained, all she could really do was hum. “I see.” She took a breather, flicking a bit of hair off of her shoulder. “Okay then,” she said finally.

    “‘Okay then’, what?” Keith asked, a furrow in his brow.

    “We’ll just have to wait and get everything taken care of without any shortcuts. He’s going to bitch about it, but that that’s Lance.” Keith almost smiled at Allura’s fond eyeroll. “Keith, do you want to come and see him?”

    He should have said no, really. He was in no way ready for a confrontation - especially one done at six in the morning in a hospital room. But did he leave and take the road that was probably best for him?

Of course not. He’s Keith Motherfucking Kogane.

    Slowly, he nodded. “Yeah, okay. I’ll see him.”

         Keith didn’t know what to feel, seeing Lance on the bed. He was scared, he recognized that much. He didn’t know what to make of the gut-wrenching sickness he experienced when he saw the bandages wrapped around Lance’s head, the gauze stuck to his forehead, covering over the wound Allura said he had taken away from a scuffle outside of some obscure bar Lance had reportedly found. The story she told was vague and when he had asked for more, she had told him that it’d be better to ask Lance about it when he awoke.

    He didn’t know what to say to Allura, who was sitting atop the mattress at Lance’s feet with her legs tucked beneath her. She was sniffling, even through her calmed resignation about the whole situation.

    Keith didn’t exactly have the words to console his soulmate’s sister, no more than he had to console himself. And so they were left in the quiet of the early morning in the hospital room. There was the shrill rhythm of beeping from the heart monitor and the softer sounds coming from Allura herself. It was too quiet - too still. Everything was in perfect clinical order, nothing moving or out of place. Lance in particular. He seemed to be taking this theme in stride by how still  he had become. That was unnerving to Keith. He didn’t move, save for the rhythmic breath puffing out and deflating his chest. There was a slight twinge in his facial features, a deepening frown and furrowing of his eyebrows.

    Regularly, Lance was never this still - even in sleep. In sleep he rolled around like a madman and cuddled into any object available to him at the moment. There was the obnoxious snoring and the mumbling that was missing here. This felt almost unnatural. It felt almost out of character, like this was some sort of scene and soon Lance’s eyes would spring open. He’d sit right up and say “Aha! Fooled you! Believed it, huh?” and everything would be okay and the bandages would be fake. The bruises on his arms would be make-up and he could wipe it off as easily as it was put on.

    Allura dew him out of his thoughts with a wet sniff. He blinked rapidly and focused on her. She looked over to him through strands of white hair. “Uhm,” she started off in a small hum. “Hunk’s in Ontario. He should be in really soon. He started booking flights while I was still on the line with him.”

    Made sense, Keith thought. Hunk seemed like the kind of person to drop everything for his Platonic.

    “When will he be in?” Keith asked aloud.

    Allura shrugged. “As soon as he can get here. The latest should be day after tomorrow, if he’s delayed at all.” Keith nodded tiredly. He looked over Lance’s sleeping figure on the bed and frowned. Lance shouldn’t look like that, Keith thought grimly. He looked too small, surrounded in the sterile white of the room and the soft blue from his gown. He looked too vulnerable, nothing like Keith had seen him before. He’d seen him tired, he’d seen him broken, but never…  _ fragile _ . Never like a wrong breath could send everything to its worst case scenario, with the heart monitor beeps speeding up rapidly or dropping until it’s just one monotonous beep. Like one exhale could send everything to hell. He’d never looked so pale and clammy, with a ghost of a wince on his upper lip that gave Keith the impression that he was in pain.

    Keith had seen Lance broken, yes. He’d seen him one word away from a very intense anger, probably even tears. He’d seen and experienced that first-hand. He wondered if it was wrong to wish that he was living those things instead of this right now. Where Lance was awake and strong - without the bruising on his arms and the bandages on his head.

    And Keith knew that Lance would wake up. He did. He just didn’t want to wait for that to happen. Because Lance looked too fragile and that took something out of Keith worse that letting him walk out after their fight.

    He bit his lip and shifted around in the uncomfortable green seat. Unable to settle, he stood. Allura looked over at him quizzically but he gave her what he hoped translated as an easy smile. “I’m going to go walk around for a few minutes. Stretch my legs.”

    She nodded her approval and Keith left the room as quickly as he could. He couldn’t stand it anymore. The pent up energy from earlier in the morning came back to play, now. He wanted to fumble with something in his hands, to get something under his grip or to be able to run. Of course, he couldn’t do that in the middle of the ward halls, so he settled for walking.

         When he got back to the room, it was a little after six. He had travelled along corridors, stopped by the lobby and simply sat for a few moments. When he came back into the room, he was beginning to feel the tiredness he was aching for in his apartment, but he couldn’t give into it. At least not with the way Lance was still lying in the bed, or the way Allura was gathering his things up.

    Keith announced his return with a knock on the door as he poked his head in. Allura jerked her head up, surprised.

    “Oh, Keith,” she breathed in relief. She stood and went to him. He met her just inside of the room. She took his hand and pressed a key into his palm. “It’ll be a while, but as soon as he wakes up, we’ll see about getting him discharged and at home. You can go ahead of us, take a nap if you wish.”

    He hesitated, eyebrows drawing down in confusion as he looked at the simplistic key in his palm. “What is this for?”

    “It’s to his apartment,” Allura explained simply. She looked him over pointedly. “Keith,” she started softly. “Have you been eating?” He was taken aback, but nodded nonetheless. He  _ was _ eating. Maybe not much, but something is still something. “Good - that’s good. But, please don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t look like yourself.”

    Keith resisted the urge to snap at her, to ask what she knew of him.

    “Please,” she went on. “Come back to Lance’s apartment. I think time with us will help you quite a bit.”

    “Who says I need help?” he asked faintly. His breathing felt hollow in his chest, like it was there but it held no substance.

    The look she gave him told Keith that he was fooling no one. “There’s a car waiting for you outside. Go sleep, Keith. You look exhausted.” He looked up and met her eyes. They lacked their usual shine and her own exhaustion was showing up on her bare face.

    He made a little sound and closed his hand over the key. “You don’t look so hot yourself,” he said slowly.

    She gave him a tired little smile. “I’ll survive a little while longer. If it gets too much, I’ll just take a nap myself.” The words were assuring and eased Keith’s mind. “Go ahead,” she prodded again. “Go take a shower, get some sleep. We’ll be along as soon as we get him cleared.”

    Keith found himself nodding numbly, twisting to leave the room and make his way to the elevator. The motion of the driver finding him was familiar, but he paid no mind as he carefully receded back into the corner of his mind where he lurked most days. He couldn’t remember the time it took to get from the hospital to Lance’s apartment building.

    He couldn’t remember how he dealt with the concerned and wary staff trying to kick him to the curb (he assumed it was because of the way he looked, in nothing but his pajamas and a ratty pair of converse, his hair was beyond greasy and he was sure that he reeked like death) but he had ended up in Lance’s apartment sure enough. He had ended up in Lance’s bathroom, going through mechanical movements as he fixed up a bath and ultimately sank into it, head and all in a dull, numb moment.

         It was nearly eleven when Allura made it back with Lance. Keith had eventually pulled himself out of the cold bathwater and dressed himself in something. He was now sitting atop the steps leading to the bedrooms. A small plastic container of cold, stale rice he found in the fridge was in his hands and  he ate with slow, forced bites. He barely gathered up the effort to drag himself up to his feet to approach the pair, but in the end he was able to make his way to the front door. The blanket that he found in the guest bedroom slipped off of his shoulders as he did, falling to the steps in one great heap.

    Lance looked, in the best of terms, wobbly. He looked like if Allura hadn’t been there with her arm threaded in his, then he would have crumbled in on himself in a click of an instant. His eyes were partially shut under the tuft of bangs poking from under his head dressing. His eyes swept along the apartment with an emotion Keith couldn’t quite pin down. He couldn’t name it until those blue eyes landed on him and they were widening, blinking in pure bafflement.

    “You-,” he said unsteadily before looking to his sister. “He’s- he’s  _ here _ ? Allie, lis’en-.” His speech was slurred as he pleaded Allura.

    She shook her head. “You hush,” she snapped. “I called him early this morning. He’s as worried as I am.” Lance looked back to Keith with those damning blue eyes, silently wondering if Allura’s claims were true. Surely she had to be joking.

    He grunted and pulled away from Allura. “I’m going to go lay down,” he said carefully, like he was trying his best to look composed and seemingly uninjured. Keith could practically see the walls he was building before him, between them. Keith couldn’t blame him. Hell, if he did then he would be a hypocrite.

    Because there, in that bathtub, Keith knew that he was building his own walls. He was trying to block out how utterly familiar and comforting Lance’s smell was as it was in the apartment. It was so much better than the fading version wafting in his own home, but at the same time it was dangerous and left a distinct ache in Keith’s chest. The clothes stored in the next-door guest room were of no comfort, even though they were his own. He hadn’t left a binder at Lance’s and he hadn’t exactly had one on when he left home, even that comfort was unavailable to him.

    So more walls were built between Keith and his soulmate. So strong that one could almost physically feel them.

    Allura stopped Lance from reaching the stairs, instead directing him back around to the couch. “Sit. We’re going to make you a bed on the couch. You’re not going near those stairs.”

    Lance gave her an incredulous stare. “You’re thinkin’ you can keep me down here?” he repeated, seemingly baffled. “‘S too bright.”

    “Then we dim the lights,” she countered. “You stumbled on your own feet trying to get to the elevator. You’re going nowhere near another accident waiting to happen.” She tucked a little couch pillow under his arm before giving it a pat and backing away. “I’m going to go get your pillows and blankets. Keith, if you wouldn’t mind getting the lights…?”

    He jolted, surprised at being addressed. “Yeah, I’ll get them.” Allura nodded her thanks and went up the stairs.

    Keith looked from where she exited to where his soulmate sat in the crook of the couch, peering at Keith like he wished that he would walk right out of the apartment from where he came.

    Keith settled his tupperware container on the edge of the kitchen island before he moved to pull the string that would pull the blinds along, significantly darkening the apartment, save the overhead lights.

    He paused, still facing the blinds just so he wouldn’t have to turn around and face his soulmate just yet. He could feel the weight of Lance’s stare in the way the hairs on his nape stood on end. It weighed his shoulders down. His chest ached painfully. He tried to hope that the ache would fade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it!  
> Thank you to Mikiri for beta'ing this!  
> Drop me a comment please! I'm on [tumblr](https://goddammitlance.tumblr.com/)


	28. Twenty Degrees Left of Center

         The ache didn’t leave.

    There was no comfort in Lance’s home. It was stifling and silent. Lance didn’t made it his personal vendetta not to speak to Keith. And Keith, well, he couldn’t find it in him to do anything but return the sentiment. The sluggish depression he found himself in did not lift with the scenery change, if anything it quite obviously worsened it; he still didn’t keep a sleep schedule and more often than not he was cooped up in one of the guest bedrooms, lying in a cocoon of heavy comforters in a perpetual state of half-consciousness.

    He was regularly roused by Allura to come downstairs for something to eat, or to pry him up to shower and remind him that he was a human being and should treat himself as such.

    Mealtimes were an awful affair in which Lance and Keith would sit on opposite sides of the table as they picked at whatever had been set in front of them. Lance seemed confused sometimes, and behaved sluggishly (as Allura had mentioned to Keith, it was because of the concussion. According to her, Lance’s speech had also been slurred and slowed. Sometimes he would try to say something, but he just couldn’t get the syllables out of his mouth in the correct order). Lance would take great interest in his plate or the wall of windows overlooking the skyline, absently eat his food and only participate in conversations if Allura was truly adamant in getting him to talk.

    Allura was a whole other program. She would try to pull both of them into the same conversation, but there was only so much she could tolerate, what with Keith, who barely paid attention to anything other than what was going on in his head. And Lance, with all of his gloriously highlighted rebelliousness.

    Lance tended to speak in ways his soulmate couldn’t understand when Keith was in the room. His primary choice was Spanish, something he and Allura were both fluent in, as they grew up with it in the home. He used ASL when his frustration with himself over his occasional jumbled speech reached a head and, moving quickly to inform his sister about whatever the current issue was.

    Allura tried her best to keep her patience with them both, particularly with her brother, but it was all she could do not to blow her top. It was common for her to speak in English when Lance played his games, but there was the off time when she, too, would switch to her second language and snap at Lance in such a way that would leave him with his head hanging, sulking and sinking back into the couch cushions.

         It had been two days and Keith didn’t know why he stayed. Maybe it was because he didn’t know what to say when he finally got up the courage to go. His clothes were still strewn along parts of his room where he hadn’t bothered gathering them up after he had changed. The room was a mess, but he was prepared to leave. He was ready to just go home. The discomfort was all too strong, it threatened to overwhelm him in the worst ways.

    In the end, he took a breather. As he left Lance’s home, he announced that he’d only be gone for a little while; only time enough to go and retrieve a binder from his apartment. And he did, although he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why he came back.

    Perhaps it was because he wanted to see Lance get better. Perhaps it was the fact that the echoing emptiness in Keith’s apartment was too much for him when he came back.

Then again, perhaps it was the guilt weighing down upon his chest. It filled his lungs and pressed down on his consciousness, ever present and never fading. It was in the glint in Lance’s eyes Keith caught whenever he and Lance locked eyes across the room. It was in the darkness of Lance’s home that seemed to cling to the drapes pulled tightly over the windows, to the atmosphere that never quite sat right in Keith’s stomach. 

         Hunk arrived later on the following day.

    He had arrived early that morning, when Keith was still trying to get a wink of sleep, buried deep in his blanket. When he finally made it downstairs, he was sitting with Lance on the couch, speaking in muted tones with him. Keith didn’t know if it was for him or Allura, who was still in her own room. Hunk caught sight of Keith first. A flash of emotions crossed his face until Lance caught wind and turned to look at Keith, too.

    Hunk said one more thing to Lance that had Lance frowning and jabbing something out the side of his mouth. Hunk shot him a look and he stood to meet Keith.

    “We need to have a conversation,” Hunk said, large and imperative. Hunk was never an imposing or particularly threatening figure on a normal day, but today was no normal day, either.

    Today was the first day Keith’s seen Hunk since the gallery, the fight, and the day he’d broken the heart of Hunk’s soulmate.

He might be more than just a little fucked, Keith realized.

    In a physical fight, (if it were to escalate to that level) it would be up in the air as to who the winner would be. True, Keith’s strength had nothing on the older man’s - but his technique and stamina were to be superior by far. Still, if in a confined space and if in a fistfight, Keith knew that with one good hit he would be on the concussion train right alongside Lance.

    There was a grossly large chance that it wouldn’t escalate to physicality, so Keith put these thoughts out of his head and got up from his stool so he could follow Hunk out onto the balcony. Keith didn’t miss the slightly concerned look Lance sent after them both.

    Hunk closed the door after Keith quietly, letting the mechanism click shut, sealing away any chance of Keith escaping from this conversation.

    Hunk seemed to be either stalling, or trying to gather his words. He steepled his fingers and inhaled sharply.

    “You took your straight shot and twisted twenty degrees to the left.”

    Keith’s sudden bewildered look must have spoken volumes because Hunk sighed. He folded his arms together against his chest and frowned. It looked as if he was preparing to deliver some awful news, or like he was a father about to chastise his child for something so horrible he’d since removed himself from the situation entirely.

    “You’ve screwed him up,” he said in summarization. “You - he.” A breath to pull himself back together. “He doesn’t date, Keith, but I thought that he would be fine after all of this. He  _ seemed _ fine, okay? He was eating okay and was in good spirits. I didn’t even know anything was wrong until Allura told me that the two of you weren’t speaking. He wouldn’t talk to me about that, either. He pushed it aside and said that you both needed a little space.” Keith swallowed thickly at that. Keith didn’t need space. He needed clarity and communication. He needed a pillar he could cling to without worrying about whether or not the pillar was going to try to pull him into bed again.

    Hunk went on to tug at the hair on his temple, a sound halfway between a heavy sigh and a growl leaving his throat. “He was doing so well that I thought it’d be alright for me to go ahead with my trip up to Ontario. But a few days after I left, he started shutting down. He ignored our calls and no one could get through to him - not even Carla. You know, she tried to get him under control but he wasn’t having any of it. The next thing I know is that all of  _ this _ shit is happening. You’re both in the same house, but not speaking? Lance won’t even  _ look _ at you, man.”

    He gesturing with his hands to nothing in a simple fit of movement. “You two…” He paused as if unsure about how to continue. “You had a good thing going and suddenly you aren’t speaking and he’s telling us that you’re both done for. Without any other reason than you both need  _ space _ .” Keith’s fingers twisted into the hem of his shirt, trying to breath evenly. “I don’t know what happened between you and my soulmate, but it needs to be resolved. He’s in pain right now. I’m doing the best I can to help him - but I hope you can make amends with him.”

    His arms fell to his sides. He patted the back of the patio chair and gave a little nod before turning and going back into the house. The door slid shut again, leaving Keith alone with his thoughts. He was left alone to contemplate the bitter taste on his tongue that slowly dripped down his throat.

         It was a walk of shame, going back into the apartment - at least, that’s what it felt like. It was like an admission of defeat to go back in there, to let Lance see him come back in through the door after the lecture Hunk had given him. So he stayed outside, careless in the early morning air. Here he could stew in his own thoughts and his self-pity without distraction or interruption.

    After half an hour, he sighed and pulled his phone from his pocket. It’s battery was less than 25%, but that was more than enough for a game or two. He ended up sitting on the concrete with his legs folded up underneath him.

    “I have had enough. Tell me.” Allura came through the doorway to the balcony and sat down next to Keith, a steaming mug of tea in her hands. Keith didn’t look up from the game on his phone. The little, rhythmic, popping bubbles on the game served as a good distraction, something to focus on. A mechanical movement to keep him from stilling and freezing up.

    “So you and Hunk tag-teaming, now?” he bit out. One look at Allura’s unimpressed face straightened him out and he mumbled, “Tell you what?” as he watched a string of purple bubbles pop with a little chime.

    “Why my brother, who just got out of the hospital, won’t speak to you despite his claim that you are  _ definitely not _ the whole reason for this mess.” She shifted and let her mug settle in front of her knees with a little clink against the concrete.

    Keith couldn’t help his flinch. His shoulders hunched in on themselves and he missed a string of bubbles when he jabbed his finger, settling on an explosive that cost him the game. He sighed and started a new level. “Ask  _ him _ .” He popped more bubbles. He avoided her eyes.

    She blew out a disappointed sigh. “I’ve tried,” she said matter of factly. “He won’t tell me. He said the  _ exact _ thing you just did.” Keith shrugged noncommittally. He stole a quick glance at her and found that she was already staring at him, as if willing him to share the information. He blinked but didn’t look away.

    Finally, he sucked in a breath and let it out as if it were too heavy for him to hold. After a second of hesitation, he tried to form his thoughts into an intelligent stream of words. “I… don’t know how to explain it,” he confessed.

    Allura picked up her cup and took a drink. There was a slight crease in her brow as she looked at Keith from the side. “Well.” She cradled the cup to her chest. “You could try.”

    Keith gave her an incredulous look. “That’s so much help, thanks.” His tone was bitter but not biting, like too much cocoa for the amount of sugar left in the chocolate bar. It wasn’t something Allura particularly enjoyed. He clicked the home button on his phone and put it aside, clearly seeing that he wasn’t going to be allowed to play in peace any more. “Okay, fine... I don’t like that Lance and I are soulmates.”

    Allura jerked, spilling some of her tea onto her shirt. She yelped at the temperature but held her hand steady to avoid a future spill. “You  _ what _ ?” Her voice was positively furious and biting, Keith was the one to flinch away this time from the sheer force of it.

    “I hate the  _ idea _ of it,” he corrected quickly. He held up his hand in hopes of quelling her temper a bit. “The  _ idea _ of all this soulmates bullshit.” He picked up his phone and fired up the game again to give his fingers something to do and his eyes something to focus on. Slowly, ever so slowly with pauses and bumps and prodding questions from Allura, Keith was able to explain himself. He was able to thread together his thoughts in such an order that he could understand them as well as she could. When he got to the conclusion of everything, he was left lying flat on his back, looking up at the early morning sky as his rambles came to a decided stop.

    “Nobody is perfect for each other,” he said. “It’s bullshit. And everyone who has a soulmate is always held up to these impossible standards that I just… can’t reach.”

    Allura was sitting against the closed glass door, her feet tucked under her with her empty cup set aside while she listened patiently to Keith’s every word.

    “Why can’t you reach them?” she asked. Her foot was rocking back and forth, rolling her heel on the ground as she thought.

    Keith frowned at the soft blue the sky was becoming. He rolled his head to look over at her. She met his eyes and inclined her head as if gently prodding him to answer the question. “Because, with the people I’ve had in my life, I’ve been conditioned to be on my guard.” It sounded simple, really. Too simple to be a monumental thing in Keith’s life that fucked with him on a day to day basis like it was just  _ nothing _ . “Because of my parents splitting up, I’m afraid that my relationship will end up the same way.”

    Allura hummed softly and nodded. “What would be so catastrophic about that?”

    Keith sat up so quickly it left a throbbing in the back of his head. “What do you mean?” he demanded, a scowl on his face.

    “Now, now,” Allura chided, making soothing motions with her hands. “I’m just asking. So far, you’ve made a point of saying that it’s completely fine for soul marked couples to split up and go on with their lives. So why would it be different for you and Lance if you broke up and began seeing other people?”

    “Because I don’t want that to happen!” he exclaimed, flinging his hands half in the air. “At first it was because of some social stigma that we would have to go through because we were split- up soulmates, but  _ now _ , I don’t want that to happen because-,” he made a frustrated sound and let his head fall back to the concrete with a little thud. His hair fanned out around his head, lying on the dirty ground but he didn’t care. He still had yet to take his shower for the day.

    “Because of what?”

    Keith looked at her, a light in his eyes that flicked low in his irises. “You  _ know _ what.” 

    “Do I?” Her tone was low, but hard and challenging. Keith looked pointedly away to the railing of the balcony. “Keith.”

    He made an enraged sound and sat up, having had enough. “Because I love him!” His exclamation brought a flush to his cheeks and the back of his neck. He had never said it aloud before. “And, beyond my reasoning or whatever the fuck he says, I don’t want to see him getting hurt. If we start dating and it ends badly, then he’ll get a lot more backlash than I will. It’ll be worse for him  _ then, _ than it is now. I can’t let myself be stupid and love him like I want to when there’s more than just me to think about here. There’s… there’s Lance and I have to remember that.” He tapped a few of his fingers along the concrete below him. “Besides. It’s easier to be close to your soulmate in a platonic sort of way than with him romantically when there’s an ever-present danger that it can be over in an instant.” He clicked his fingers savagely. There was a beat of simmering tensions only Keith understood before he blew out a breath. “Better to choose the lesser happy ending than get no happy ending at all, right?”

    Allura shifted towards him and put a hand on his knee. “Oh Keith,” she whispered in a breath. She sounded too much like his mother, he realized with a jolt. Like she was pitying him, trying to decide how to comfort him. “Are you happy right now?” There was a slight hesitation before Keith shook his head in a negative. How could he be? From the looks of everything right now, the bond he once held with his soulmate was now all but lost. His soulmate was wounded, and hurt, and there’s nothing Keith could do to ease his suffering. There’s nothing Lance would allow him to do. These last few weeks have been the worst ones in Keith’s collective life. So, no, thank you. He’s not happy.

    Allura went on. “Neither is Lance. Whether or not you meant to, you’ve pushed him away and now he’s angry at you for it. Probably just as angry as you are with him right now. And if you and he don’t resolve this or for the love of God at least  _ talk _ with him about it, this relationship will have ended. Platonically or otherwise.”

    In slow movements, Keith found himself curling in on himself. He drew his knees up to his chest one at a time and quietly placed his chin atop them. “I know,” he muttered.

    “So you’ll speak with him?” she pressed.

    Keith’s lips thinned a little. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’ll try.”

    Keith wasn’t looking at Allura at that moment but she was very quiet for a moment. And then she sighed, stood up and picked her mug up off of the concrete with a little scraping sound. Keith watched as she twisted around and slid the glass door open. She stopped right before going in and looked to Keith over her shoulder. There was a subtle set to her jaw and a certain look in her eyes that Keith linked to pity. “If you are going to do it, do it sooner rather than later.” She gave him a smile. “I’m not keen on the idea of losing you in my life, Keith. Neither is Lance. Tell him what you’ve just told me and go from there. He’ll listen, I promise.” She gave a little nod of her head before she disappeared back in the house behind undulating white curtains and the darkness of the rooms no one had bothered to give light to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings, folks! Did you miss me?
> 
> Also, did you know that I love Hunk very much?
> 
> Thank you to Mikiri for beta'ing this!
> 
> Here's my [tumblr](https://goddammitlance.tumblr.com/)


	29. Little Talks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated today bc I won't be able to Sunday! I will be travelling.  
> I figured that ya'll wouldn't want to wait another week right??
> 
> Also, this is the second to last chapter. I'm So ready to cryyyyyy

         Keith believed that Allura had too much faith in him. He couldn’t do this.

    It had been all of another few days since The Talks. As of this moment, Keith and Lance were left alone in the flat, Allura had been called to a meeting, and Hunk had taken the day off as he had spent every waking moment ever since his return with Lance.

    Keith had begun to hope that the sheer choking atmosphere in the room would be enough to finish him off - at least then he wouldn’t have to try to initiate the conversation with Lance, who seemed to be absolutely, perfectly happy not having anything to do with Keith.

    Tucked into the corner of the couch with a takeaway black tea, Keith blew at the small trickle of steam coming out of the little mouthpiece in the white plastic lid and resolutely stared at some reality TV show that was playing on the stupidly big flatscreen to avoid the stare that Lance was currently boring in the side of his head, making the back of his neck heat up and the hairs there stand up on end. He didn’t look over, didn’t acknowledge the awkwardness. He only focused on what was happening on this particular Kardashian rerun and how the heat of his paper cup seemed to bleed through to sting at his palms and fingers until he wanted to put it down and go find an ice pack for them.

    He sunk down a little lower, took a sip, didn’t jerk at his burnt taste buds and kept watching the show. He didn’t pay any mind to the words Allura had told him that were currently swirling around his brain. He didn’t pay any mind to the creeping dread of what he was supposed to do swimming unpleasantly in the pit of his stomach. Or really, he tried. He really tried. Instead he found himself spacing out and focusing on all of it at once. He found himself being eaten alive by them. He couldn’t care less about the feeling on the back of his neck as he knew somewhere in the back of his mind that Lance was still staring at him from his little bed on the couch, from in between his quilts and stupidly plush pillows.

    Keith sucked in a breath and let his head drop to the back of the couch cushion. He watched the ceiling fan turn its dark blades and timed his breathing with them. One deep inhale as they made a full circle, one heaving exhale in the same manner. His eyes followed one blade as it teetered along until his eyes were burning and dry.

    He twisted his cup in his hands and scowled. “I’m an adult,” he said suddenly. He was almost surprised that the syllables had come from his mouth. He sat upright and put his cup down onto the glass-topped coffee table. He met Lance’s eyes this time. His soulmate’s stare was questioning and just a hint of disdain tugged at his upper lip.

    “Random-ass comment,” Lance remarked, his voice biting.

    “No it’s not. You don’t understand,” Keith looked at the floor for a second, quietly shaking his head. “This is fucking ridiculous. I’m a full grown man who should have no issue talking about shit.”

    “ _ Should _ ,” Lance commented. That caught Keith’s breath.

    “Lance,” Keith muttered. Lance looked away from Keith, out to the balcony with his chin held high as he tugged his quilt further around himself. Keith blew out a breath and tried again, repeating the name. Lance didn’t look at Keith until he scooped up his cup and came to Lance’s couch. He settled himself carefully on the very edge of the cushion furthest from Lance, his face solemn and sad. He settled his cup on the table. His fingers twitched to reach out for Lance, to hold him, but Keith thought better of that very early on in that shaky plan and instead settled his hands on his lap in a small heap. He clenched his jaw, trying to find the words that had always eluded him when it came to Lance. There were never enough words when it came to his soulmate. There weren’t the right ones, either.

    Lance took them away from his mouth just as easy and just as sure as he stole the breath from Keith’s lungs and kept it for his own.

    He closed his eyes and leaned back into the cushions. He didn’t account for the subtle shifting Lance did away from him, but he tried to pretend that it didn’t hurt him, even though he full well knew that he deserved it.

    “My mom and dad are divorced.”

    The statement was quiet and barely there, just a whisper that didn’t quite carry over the sound of the television in the background. Still, Lance seemed to have heard it because he was shifting again and the TV was turned off.

    “I know.” Lance’s voice had a strange inflection, Keith thought. He must have been confused as to why Keith was bringing up this seemingly left field topic.

    Keith dropped his head back into the cushion. “Yeah. They were soulmates, too.” He blew out a breath and let the words form themselves. “We all thought that they loved each other a lot. They didn’t. They could barely stand each other.” He found this funny in that moment. He let a dry laugh escape from his mouth. “But when I was a teenager, they told us that they were going to try for divorce and that Dad got an apartment to live in while they did it. So Dad moved out and left us with Mom.” He shrugged. He couldn’t gather the energy to feel bitter about it. That wasn’t the point of this madness. This was just setting the scene, like Keith’s inner issues were a spectacle to behold.

    “After that my sort of ‘view’ on soulmates changed.” He rolled his head to the side and cracked an eye open. Lance was already looking at him, wide-eyed. He was likely very surprised at this sudden heart to heart session that Keith had started between them. Hell, Keith was surprised, too. “If you think about it, it’s kind of like a social construct. Bullshit like virginity and gender.” He waved his hand and blew out a dismissive sigh. “Everybody expects great things from soulmates. Everyone expects another amazing love story that begins and ends  _ exactly _ like the last, just with different faces and small details changed. There’s this social stigma about breaking up with your soulmate that’s seriously damaging. Like: my dad?” His fingers reached out for his cup so he could drain the very last of his tea, a small amount of grounds coming along with the liquid. He made a face and set the paper cup back down again. “He’s definitely not the greatest person for my Mom. She always says that she never got enough time in the dating pool because she found her soulmate too early. And my dad, on the other hand, seems really fucking happy with his current wife.” Keith’s expression was as bitter as his tea.

    “See? They couldn’t make it work with each other, but that doesn’t mean that they couldn’t make other relationships work, like people would have you to believe. People thought that my mom wouldn’t be able to raise us right because she was a single mom who was setting a bad example for her kids.” He shifted, drawing one leg up onto the couch with him so he could curl his arms around it and lean his chin on his knee. “Well, look at us now.” His throat was tight and his voice sounded strangled. “I’d say we turned out okay.” He took a breath and shrunk back into the cushions. “We’ve got a few issues - I do, anyway - but we turned out okay.”

    “But,” he muttered, voice dropping, “Even though that I know that a couple who aren’t soulmates could fall in love and end up happy together, I know that soulmates could, too. And I  _ know _ that.” He thought he did. He wanted to knock his fist against his head and order himself to  _ straighten up for Chrissakes _ . Lance has shifted towards Keith, opening up his body a little more towards his soulmate as he listened closely, paying direct attention to every word uttered. “But I’ve spent so much time in my life preparing for my soulmate and I to end up like my parents did. Ending up with my relationship like that, to lose you like that, that fucking  _ terrifies _ me.”

    “I thought that ‘hey, if I go about this right, It’ll all end up okay.’ I thought that if we took things slow and, if we wanted to, fell in love, then it would be with a friend and not a stranger. Someone you already knew how to handle and had a strong bond with. That’d it’d be… I don’t know. Natural, I guess.” 

    “Natural,” Lance repeated quietly. Keith felt like shrinking down further. Maybe that was the wrong word.

    “Not that what happened was unnatural,” Keith said, backtracking a small bit. “It’s just that…” He worried into his lip. “I was so worried that I would fuck everything up that, while I was trying to build up a future our present fucking crumbled into the dust.” He plucked at the quilt around Lance and frowned, expecting Lance to say something instantly afterwards. Lance, who never quit with his babble, was wrecking Keith’s nerves simply because of his silence.

    Keith really hated silence nowadays.

    His fingers trembled and he had to make a conscious effort to keep his breathing steady as well. His right thumb rubbed along his soulmark in slow circles like it would bring him some form of comfort. He took a chance and looked at Lance. The man was looking down at Keith’s hands, an unreadable expression on his face, gaze zeroed in on his fingers.

    “And Allura was right, if I don’t learn to talk shit out this won’t be fixable. If it even is, now.” He licked his lips and shifted so that his legs were folded under him and he was fully facing his soulmate, ready for whatever feedback was pushed at him.

    Lance frowned and looked up at Keith’s face. “Allura? You talked to her first?” There was confusion and accusation there. Keith didn’t blame him much.

    “This wouldn’t be happening if she hadn’t have forced it out of me,” he confessed. “She said that I should talk to you, quick, because if I didn’t we’d be done.”

    Lance gave a slight scoff. “That all she said?”

    “No.” Keith thought for a second, flicking his gaze to the roof so he could sort through her words. “She said you would listen,” he said.

    “Oh yeah? How did she know that?”

    Keith shrugged. “I don’t know.” He wanted to throw his hands up, sigh, let all of his emotions out so that there would be some sort of release afterwards. He was very done with this situation, this talking through things. “Hell,  _ I _ don't know why you’re listening!”

    Lance hummed and picked up his own cup from his coaster on the little table. He took a long drink of his sweet, fruity tea and didn’t say a thing. There was something in the way he hummed that told Keith that he knew why. That was puzzling to Keith. There was no reason for Lance to be listening to him like this. They were sitting civilly in Lance’s living room, drinking tea as Keith blabbered about how he set fire to their shaky relationship and watched it burn to the fucking ground. There wasn’t supposed to be anything civil about this. There was supposed to be screaming and outbursts. Lance wasn’t supposed to be listening to Keith.

    But… he was. Lance was listening to him as patiently as he could possibly be, seemingly calm as he drank his fucking tea. Why? That was the only question on Keith’s mind. Why in the world was Lance tolerating him like this?!

    “I’d have put me out the door by now.”

    At this, Lance created something like a laugh. It sounded more like a breath, really, but there was the slightest coloring of a chuckle. Keith frowned in confusion.

    “You did, once,” Lance said in terms of an explanation. “You said that the universe made a mistake and then told me to leave.” There wasn’t humor in his voice.

    “Why don’t you do the same to me?” Keith demanded, rocking forward to his knees so he could look at Lance’s closer. Maybe if Lance saw the utter confusion on Keith’s face then he would be prompted to give an explanation as to his behavior.

    Lance sobered. He paused in reaching to put down his cup and looked at Keith. “Because… I don’t consider this a mistake.”

    “What?” Keith sat back down, thoroughly lost now. “How could you not? Lance, I hurt you-”

    “Yeah, yeah, you did. Badly.” There was a subtle set to his jaw and the way he squared his shoulders, but his voice remained soft and unthreatening. “And I hurt you too.” Keith nodded in acknowledgement. It seemed like such a long time ago. “And when that happened, you had time. While I’m not going to kick you out of here, I’d like some as well. I gotta think all of this over. Let it sink in.” He shifted, laying his quilt aside as he moved to stand.

    Keith watched as he snagged his tea and made his way carefully up the stairs, no doubt to his bedroom. He fell down to lie on his back with a shaky exhale. He ran his hands over his face. Had it gone badly? Had it gone well? Keith wasn’t sure. Lance hadn’t rejected him. Not exactly… he just needed time to think. That was fair. Nerve wracking for Keith, but  _ fair _ . At least he hadn’t tossed Keith out the door which is something Lance might have done that first day if he’d been sound of mind at all.  _ He would have every right to. I’m a rotten soulmate. _ And yet, it felt better. Allura had been right. It was good to have all that off his chest. The ball was in Lance’s court now. Keith’s turn to wait.  _ Shit.  _ Waiting was not something he was good at. He had the need to do something. His fingers itched in a way they hadn’t in a long time. Not since the argument. That… was startling. His heart lifted back into its proper place and pounded there hard enough to make his ribs ache. Keith’s finger’s itched. He needed a pen, a pencil, a crayon… something! And something to write on.

         Allura returned not long after, her perfect hair only slightly frizzed by the high winds the television spoke of. “Keith? What are you doing down here?” Allura’s voice was soft, curious, as if she was scared of frightening Keith up and off of the couch. “Where’s Lance?” she asked, casting a glance around the room in suspicion as her brother was nowhere to be found.

    “He went upstairs,” Keith said faintly. She cocked an eyebrow at him.

    “Oh?” Keith did little more than nod. His left hand was splayed over his abdomen, tapping out a small rhythm. He didn’t look at here, didn’t even open his eyes. He was lying in the place Lance had made his home in for the last week or so, with the blankets rumpled beneath him. “Did you two talk?” she asked suddenly, the pieces clicking together.

    Keith hummed. He moved to throw a wrist over his eyes. “Yeah. I talked to him. He’s in his room. Mulling it over, I guess.”

    “Ah,” she mused. “Did it go well?”

    “Debatable.” There was no addition to the word. The tone was bordering on flat, but it was thoughtful. She resolved to leave him to whatever stream of thoughts were running through his head. She went upstairs, taking them two at a time until she came to the hallway. The first place she checked was Lance’s room, however it was untouched. The neatly made bed held no answered for her, as the man was nowhere in this room.

    Hadn’t Keith said that he’d went upstairs?

    Another few moments of searching told her that he wasn’t in the room she had began to call her own, but rather in Keith’s room.

    The closet door had been thrown open and a packing crate meant for artwork could be seen in the back. The painting it had contained was sitting propped against the wall with shreds of packing materials still draped across the corners.

    Allura didn’t recognize the piece, and she thought it rather odd that a painting would have been buried in the back of a closet, cached away from the world. She couldn’t think of a reason Lance would have kept such a thing here, in this room. Unless…

    Lance looked up, catching her eyes as she came into the room. He was sat heavily on the edge of the bed, shoulders slumped and hands braced on either sides of his knees. She came to sit delicately beside him.

    “Is this Keith’s work?” she asked, her voice lowered to preserve the fragile feeling in the air. It felt as if Lance’s very being would crack, shatter if she simply breathed wrong.

    “It’s-.” His voice broke slightly. He cleared his throat, shook his head. “No, it isn’t.” He paused, making a thoughtful expression. “I mean, it was  _ supposed _ to be. I bought it for him.”

    Allura made an understanding noise. She drew her feet up to tuck underneath her. “I see.”

    “I, uh, got it for him when he went to that art expo Nyma put on.” Allura didn’t comment. He seemed to be sorting through his thoughts, so she would let him talk. “You should have seen him, Allura. His eyes got all bright, and he was so happy. I wanted to show him how much he meant to me, and it was all going so well… I don’t - I didn’t know where it all went wrong. I thought it was over and we were done. I thought-.” His hands fussed with each other, trying to fit words together like puzzle pieces. “I thought that he didn’t  _ want _ me.” Lance coked back a sob. “And then that painting… I was having it delivered to his new place and I was looking forward to hanging it on his wall and seeing his eyes light up over it again. And then we fought. ” His voice dropped into a monotone. “I had it shipped here instead and stuck it in the closet.” He shrugged, not meeting his sister’s eyes. “It was out of spite. I was angry and hurt and I didn’t  _ want him _ to have the painting.”

    Allura rubbed a had between his shoulder blades, like their father would do. It was soothing. She let him process everything, but it told him that she was there.

    “And then it just felt like it was burning a hole in my conscience, or something. Like, I  _ knew _ it was in here and because I knew it was in here, it kept reminding me of that night. And what happened that night. And then that morning. And then he never called.” He winced. One of his hands came up to rub at the opposite shoulder. “It hurt, Allie. You know, I’ve been through this shit before. I just… I couldn’t  _ handle _ it.”

    “You did the best that you could,” she tried.

    The look he gave was withering. “My best.” He scoffed. “My best is not the bottom of a bottle of Jack. My best isn’t getting into fist fights outside of clubs just because I need something to numb pain I can’t handle.”

    “Then you did the best you could with what was provided.”

    He snorted, unamused. “Whatever. I’m an actor. You’d think I could have at least acted civilized about my heartbreak.”

    “Well then, why don’t you?” Allura’s acerbic comment cut through his self-pity.

    “I should. I want to, Allie. But what if it goes bad again?” The fear was tight in his voice.

    “Then  _ next _ time, you act civilized with your heartbreak. You heal. You move on.” Lance’s look to her was incredulous and wide eyed. “But, I know that if you don’t try and make this better, try and move on  _ with _ or  _ without _ him, you’ll regret it. You owe it to yourself to at least try.” Her voice was cajoling, “He’s trying, Lance. Open yourself up to him. Show him why it hurt. Maybe that painting will find its way out of the closet if you both want it badly enough.”

    Lance gnawed on his lip, looking over to the painting once again. His eyes traced the little swirls in the paint and how the lights contrasted the darks.

    “How?” he mumbled.

    “He told you his story. Tell him yours.” She stood up, patting her thighs. “And I will leave you with that thought,” she said, turning towards the door. “I’m glad you’re doing better now.” She gave him a warm smile before leaving the room.

         Lance didn’t make it down until much later. The windows outside showed that the sun was well on its way to setting. Hunger gnawed at his stomach as he came down the stairs, steady enough, if slowly.

    It wasn’t surprising that Keith wasn’t where he had left him on the couch. It had been hours. But Lance wasn’t exactly expecting to see him perched on a stool by the bar, hunched over the counter top in intense concentration as his hands sketched furiously. The lights were dim, only half of their normal setting, and Lance wondered how Keith could see what he was working on.

    Lance wound his way across the room to the wall where the dimmer switch to the kitchen rested. He turned it up some, to where he could actually see properly. Keith jumped in surprise, going ramrod straight, looking around for the newcomer. When he caught sight of his soulmate he reddened, hands scrabbling to gather up whatever was in front of him.

    “What are you doing?” Lance asked curiously, crossing so that he was standing across the counter from Keith, with the inset sink in front of him.

    Keith pulled his things - napkins? - closer to his chest. “Nothin’,” he stammered. “Wiping your dirty counter.”

    Lance snorted, a little smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. “Right. Sure.”

    Neither of them seemed to know what to say after that. Lance made a popping sound after a while, casting for something to say. “Um… are you hungry?”

    “I  _ could _ eat,” Keith said quietly, relaxing his arms so that the simply propped him up on the counter top.

    Lance thinned his lips and nodded awkwardly. “ _ Allllrighty _ , well, I’m going to make a sandwich.” He turned to find the right fixings, leaving Keith to whatever he was doing before he came in. He bit his lip as he retrieved a loaf of bread from the old fashioned bread box and placed it squarely on the counter. “So what  _ were _ you doing?” he asked curiously, looking at the little pile of napkins - yes, they were confirmed napkins - under his arms.

   It took a moment, but Keith finally offered up his answer, scooting the napkins across the bar. They were doodles. Dozens upon dozens of adorable little doodles, some of them little objects around Lance's home, such as the little bread box. Others of little animals. There was a bird in one, a roughly sketched giraffe in another.

   He hummed, looking over the doodles. He let a little smile come to the corners of his mouth. "I like this one," he said, tapping at the giraffe. "He's cute. Very fluffy."

   Keith nodded along. "There was a special on Animal Planet. I watched a few minutes of it."

   "Well, it's good." Lance turned to filch through his cabinets, on a quest for peanut butter. Keith mumbled something, Lance thought it sounded rather like a thanks. Lance hummed quietly as he found the peanut butter, and some sort of flavored jam in the fridge. He snagged a plate before turning back to the island counter.

    He put all of the things onto the counter to the left of the sink, and looked everything over. He was aware of Keith’s eyes on him, though he didn’t look up to met them. He was taking Allura’s advice. They needed to talk things out. Keith had had his turn, it was Lance’s now.

    He took a butter knife from a drawer and tapped it on the edge of the counter. “So, um.” He choked. Or, that’s what it felt like. All notions of what to say next were thrown out the window. He chewed on the inside of his cheek.

    “I pulled a  _ you _ and talked to Allura.” It was a place to jump off of, he thought, even if it was a bad one. Judging by Keith’s violent flinch, curling in on himself, it was a very bad place to jump off of. The ground under him was crumbling. He needed to jump, and fast. “I don’t mean that maliciously,” he assured his soulmate. “I think everyone should have an Allura to talk to when they’re having…  _ trouble _ . And I’m not mad you talked to her in the first place, before you did me. ‘Cause, I wasn’t exactly, you know,  _ listening _ to you.” He frowned, pausing the knife in its tapping. The metallic ringing stopped and Lance found that some of the tenseness rolling off of Keith settled.

    “I shut down when shit goes south,” Keith muttered. “I need a push to resolve things or talk them out. She prodded me to talk to you. You wouldn’t even look at me, Lance.”

    He didn’t look him in the eye when he said, “I know, I’m sorry about that.” Lance settled his knife down and went for the peanut butter, screwing off its lid. “But, I’ll remember that,” he said quietly. “For future reference.”

    Keith didn’t say anything after that, so Lance took that as his cue to continue.

    “So, I need to explain some shit. It’s kinda like we unlocked each other’s back stories, or whatever.” The small joke didn’t lighten the atmosphere in the kitchen. It was still dark, heavy with anticipation. Lance began to make his sandwich as he tried to make his mouth form the correct words.

    “Um… As a kid, I always held soulmates to these huge standards - like we’re generally taught to, you know?” Keith hummed encouragingly as Lance shut the lid of the peanut butter. “My moms and dad are so, you know, still so  _ in love _ ; after all these years, they still are. I figured that, that’s probably what I’m going to get someday, too. An amazing soulmate with whom I would be so blindly in love with. Maybe we’d have kids someday, if that was in the stars for us, I dunno.” He placed the jar on the counter instead of back in the cupboard where it belonged.

    “And, uh, in high school, I met someone.” He shrugged, spreading the peanut butter onto his bread slice. “It was against the plan - the  _ what’s the use of outside dating when I’ve got a soulmate? _ Plan.” He gave a little reminiscent smile. “I met her during orientation - it was a really quick thing. My braces-wearing, long-haired drama-buff ass honestly didn’t think I had a chance. Of course, I tried anyway, flirting with her any chance I got.” Lance wasn’t looking at Keith anymore. He seemed to be off in his own world now, reminiscing on days long gone. “Her friends were friends with my friends, as it turned out, so we ended up hanging out a lot. I think we started dating a few weeks before Christmas break.

    “We were together for three and some years. I loved her. A lot. I thought that I wasn’t going to love anyone other than my soulmate, but by God, did I love her.” He took a breath, shrugged a shoulder and feigned nonchalance. “She broke up with me right after one of my first call backs. I was going to tell her, but then I got settled down for  _ the talk _ .” He rolled his eyes, the fingers of his left hand doing air quotes around his butter knife. “Her timer ran out a few weeks before. He was an okay guy, from what I knew of him. But, uh, when it happened, she told me that I needed to wait for the day that I meet my own soulmate - that I’d  _ understand _ why she was doing what she did.

    “I didn’t understand, not really. But, I let her leave and she dated him. I think they live in Queens, now. They’ve got a kid - a really adorable kid. I don’t talk to her anymore, since we’ve graduated, but that left a lasting impression on me.” He put the sandwich together and settled it down onto the plate. He crossed his arms against the memory. Keith didn’t know what to do, or what reaction was appropriate, so he looked down at his napkins. His ballpoint pen traced over the edges of his makeshift canvas. The dulled scritching of the ballpoint digging into the fibrous paper seemed to create a buffer around the tenseness coming off of Lance over the trouble he was having talking to Keith about this subject. Keith let him think and concentrated on not letting the pen rip the paper.

    “After her, I didn’t date any more, aside from small time flings and quick hookups.” He rolled a shoulder and looked to the side to throw Keith a little reminiscent smile. It was sad, broken - something too substantial to be taken with such a light tone. “And here’s the short story: I was too scared of rejection - of what would happen when they found their soulmate and what would happen when I met mine. I mean, everything we’ve been taught tells us that when your soulmate comes around, you drop every connection to any current flame and you go with your soulmate. If there’s  _ ever _ a choice between your soulmate and another, you choose your soulmate. There’s no goddamn question. It’s…” Lance sucked at his teeth, swaying slightly in tune with his breath. He blinked, straightened up and squared his shoulders. He let his arms fall to his sides. “It’s not even an option.” His swallow was audible and it made Keith’s skin crawl.

    “So, with you, I was nervous. I’d fantasized about it so often, for so long. I hyped it up so much that I didn’t really think you could live up to any of those expectations. Like… Have you ever hyped something up so much and then you you finally get it, it’s all lackluster and totally disappointing?”

    Keith snorted, pushing his napkin away and placing his pen on the countertop with a small click. “Gee, thanks, Lance.”

    “No! No, listen.” He took a second to cut the sandwich in half. It was a sloppy, diagonal cut made with the sticky, peanut butter covered knife. “It was weird at first, having you. It was just so much different than what I had expected. It’s not bad -  _ you’re _ not bad. I like you very much; it might even go a bit deeper than that.” Keith caught his lip as Lance smiled warmly at him, pushing his plate across the counter. “I’m only saying that I was expecting something  _ much _ different. And I think that probably explains my initial enthusiasm towards it. Towards you.”

    “...Oh.” Keith took half of the offered sandwich and Lance, the other.

    “And then, you know, then I got hit with the whole - well, you know,  _ you _ .” He laughed, gesturing to Keith. “And it went less from trying to impress and keep my soulmate to more of trying to impress and keep  _ you _ .” He tried to bite back the lovesick lift to his mouth and bit the sandwich instead. He made a face. There was too much jam. Keith didn’t seem to mind, though, so it was fine. “And then, you were all I could think about. I couldn’t stop thinking about how well you got along with my family, or how much I loved looking at your eyes, or that cute face you make when you’re trying to paint in peace. Or how much I liked kissing you, and having you around.”

    He went on, mentioning Nevada, and being stuck alone in his hotel room. The certain brand of loneliness only easing when he spoke with Keith. He talked at length about after their fight and about how he crumbled, how the thought of Keith was a different kind of hurt in that instance. It was less off Lance feeling alone and more of lamenting over loss.. A little more filled with self-loathing.

    Lance’s words broke up, laughing nervously. “Okay, so I’ve done a lot of talking. You talk now.”

    “I… said all of my words earlier,” he said around his mouthful, shrugging. “I don’t have any more for you.”

    Lance hummed, eyes narrowing. “Okay then. Since we’ve both exhausted our word storage, what do we do, now? Eat our sandwiches in our new found peace?”

    Keith merely noddd. “Yeah.”

    And so they did. They barely talked, simply taking the opportunity to enjoy the other’s presence, something they hadn’t been able to do for quite some time. They made more sandwiches, Lance added a few doodles onto the napkins, next to Keith’s.

    Seeing Lance pick up the pen, he hummed, prompting his soulmate’s attention to him. “Yeah, if I’m gonna keep spending time over here, I’m gonna need to go get some  _ real _ paper. I might use up your napkin supply, if I don’t.”

    Lance snorted. “We’ll have to go grab them soon,” he said, “‘cause I’m not wiping my mouth with ink.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanna apologize for this being late, but if I had updated on time it would have been really bad so :\
> 
> This chapter would most certainly would not have gotten out without my dear friend Penny. She saw that I had written myself into a corner and she was able to construct me a window to climb out of! Thank you so much, you are fantastic.
> 
> And thank you to my beta, Mikiri! Best beta ever I never have complaints abt your work.
> 
> Okay, ha, with all that being said, please drop me a comment or visit me over on my [tumblr](https://goddammitlance.tumblr.com/)! I hope you have a great day! =]


	30. Final

     As they stepped into the apartment and into the light from the still-exposed windows, Keith realized that this was going to be a problem. Pointedly ignoring the dire mess in the middle of the living room floor, Keith led Lance through the entryway and went straight for the steps leading to his room and the little loft above the rest of the apartment. Lance ambled in behind him, stalling at the foot of the steps and Keith was certain that he had caught a look at Keith’s art all over the floor.

    “I… Keith, what the fuck happened here?” he asked. His footsteps led away from the loft stairs now and back towards the living room. Keith cringed slightly but focused on gathering his suitcase and his clothes from his closet.

    “What happened where?” he asked. He hoped that Lance would get the tone of his voice. _Nothing happened_ . Nothing. Fucking nada. The living room was clear of evidence of his break down and he _certainly_ wouldn’t have to tell Lance why in the world Keith’s artwork was positively in shreds, littering the hardwood floor with their charcoals, pastels and other mediums.

    There was a little sound as Lance came up the steps. “You know what.” Keith looked to Lance was stood behind him in the doorway with his shoulder propped against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. “What happened down there.” He jerked his head back to demonstrate his point.

    Keith gave a shrug and went back to taking his things out of his closet only to throw them back onto the queen sized bed into a sizable pile. He wasn’t even paying attention to what was going on the bed, just grabbing anything that came to hand.

    Lance frowned and came forward until he could put his hand on Keith’s wrist. Keith wet his lips but kept his eyes on the mattress and his pile of clothes. “Hey.” Lance moved so he was almost half leaning over the bed as he tried to get into Keith’s line of sight. “Keith.” The man blinked a couple of times and rolled his eyes at himself before looking to Lance and meeting his eyes. “What happened, hmm?” he asked carefully, softly like if he spoke to loudly than he would break the air itself. “Why is your art in pieces out there?”

    Keith’s jaw set and he hesitated for a minute. He tried several times to start but stopped short again, not knowing how to phrase what he needed. It was like grasping for threads in a string factory. He had plenty of thoughts - just not the ones he wanted or needed.

    “It was after we had slept together,” he said finally. He looked up to the roof, partially in thought and partially in a silent prayer that God might strike him down before he had to finish his explanation. He had no such luck, of course. He was left to grasp at his thin strings and prepare for the worst that would come. “And we fought and you cut yourself off. Caroline was in Baltimore, Julie is with her boyfriend…” He trailed off and waved a hand in the air, sighing through his nose. “Kevin’s across the country, and not exactly in the position to drop everything and deal with my bullshit, so I didn’t really have anybody to talk to and I…” He made vague gesture and thinned his lips. Maybe Lance would get the picture, vague as it was, that while in a poor mental space, Keith had shredded his things.

    Lance wasn’t having that. He nodded, telling Keith that he still had every bit of his attention. Keith sighed and continued. “I bottled it all up and it exploded in my face. I took a pair of scissors to every piece of paper I could get at.” He shrugged, a rueful smile on his lips. He looked back to his clothes and stuffed a few more into his bag. “I was going to clean up but then I just slept instead and then I forgot about it; and before I knew it, Allura called me and you were in the goddamn hospital with a fucking concussion.” His movements got jerkier and rougher until he was sure he was going to tear the pair of pants he was holding. He slammed them in the bag in a fit. His face was burning. With shame or maybe frustration he didn’t know which. He didn’t get to do that many more times before Lance was catching his wrists and uttering small, calming words to him.

    “Keith, hey, hey,” he whispered, placing Keith’s wrists against his own chest, holding them over his heart. Keith pulled at them but Lance didn’t let go until Keith calmed a little and settled against Lance’s chest with a violent breath. One more feeble tug and Keith was surrendering. He thumped his forehead down against Lance’s collar bone and just focused on his breathing for a moment. Lance let go of one of his wrists so he could wrap an arm around Keith’s shoulders and draw him closer. “It’s alright,” Lance whispered against his hair. He whispered it again and again and variants thereof as he held Keith against his chest and shifted to card long fingers through his hair. Keith’s arms slipped from in between them to wrap around Lance’s waist.

    After a few minutes, Keith pulled away and tilted his head back to look up at Lance. Lance was quiet now, and his gaze was soft into Keith’s. Keith leaned up on his tip toes and pressed a kiss to Lance’s lips.

    Lance smiled and pressed a kiss to his soulmate’s cheek. He sighed and tucked his face into the crook of Keith’s neck. “You do know that we still have to clean that stuff up downstairs though, right?” he muttered into the thick material of Keith’s sweater.

    Keith frowned but nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

    And so they did, just as they were about to leave. Lance made his way into the living room, hands picking up differing shreds of paper and putting them into one complete pile near the foot of the coffee table. Keith hesitated before he came over and began to help as well. With shaky fingers and an aching feeling of disappointment in himself, he helped Lance clear up the floor. Keith went to work on gathering the uncut pictures and putting them back in their folder and atop the unpacked box against the wall.

    “What do you want done with these?” Lance asked. It was a soft question. Lance looked up to Keith from where he was sitting back on his heels, the papers on his hands.

    Keith worried at his lip for a minute, caught in between turning from the box back to his soulmate. He gave a one-shouldered shrug, an admission of defeat of sorts “The trash,” he said. He cast a glance around, trying to locate the bin. There was one in the kitchen, he realized. “There’s no other place for them, anyway. I made sure of that.” He held out his hands for the pages and Lance handed them over to him. He twisted on his heel and crossed over to the kitchen. He tossed the small stack in the bin with a pained sound. He looked at them and their new home in the trash bag. That looked wrong. He felt ashamed that he would let them get damaged enough to warrant them being thrown in the trash.

    Sighing, he turned around. Lance was already there, standing tall, like some kind of stronghold for Keith to hold onto. He knew that if he wanted, there wouldn’t be any more words shared about this subject. He could avoid them forever and, if asked, Lance would make a point to never bring it up again.

    Keith licked his lips and cast around for something to start it all off. He dropped onto a barstool and combed the fingers of his right hand through his hair. “I, uh, communication is important.” The phrasing was cliche, but it was a starting point. It was enough to plant his feet and push off, jumping through the scramble of thoughts and words weighing him down. He waded down through the mess for a string of coherent talking points.

    Lance leaned against his elbows on this opposite side of the counter. “Very much so,” he agreed.

    Keith rubbed his hands along his forearms, playing with the cuff of his sleeve pushed up to his elbow. “And I didn’t, you know, do it often. Not with what mattered, anyway.” He swallowed down saliva and it was much louder than he intended it to be. “The whole thing with _soulmates_ was weird for me, and I never really made you aware of that fact, Or hell, _why_ it was a fact, and as a result, everything got messy and it ended up ending. Us, I mean.” His fingers tapped at the underside of the marble counter with a rhythm.

    “That was a two-way street, though.” Lance spoke up, swishing his hand in the air between them. “‘Cause, when that happened I was the one that triggered everything to explode _and_ I was the one to book it before we could talk things out.”

    “But I was the one to not call afterwards, or stop you and explain everything during the whole thing.”

    Lance sighed. “Alright, so you were. But that’s okay. We’re past that now. If you’re still beating yourself up about that, you shouldn’t.”

    Keith made a little face, so Lance went on.

    “Okay, so how about this? The slate’s wiped clean.”

    “What do you mean?”

    “Here, I mean this: from here on out, no more score keeping. No blame taking, or fault giving for stuff from forever ago.” He mimed throwing something over his shoulder. “Clean slate. No more living in the old past. Only looking forward.” He held a hand out for Keith to shake.

    Keith looked at him closely. “That simple?”

    Lance smiled. “That simple.” Keith shook his hand. “That also means you can’t bring up any of the embarrassing childhood memories from my family anymore, too.”

    Keith spluttered. He protested, “That’s bullshit!”

    “Nah, nope, it’s not. We shook on it!” Lance’s grin was warm and Keith surrendered.

         Coming back to Lance’s apartment hours later, Keith had a backpack slung over his shoulder, his soulmate right beside him in the elevator.

    “So,” Keith murmured, looking at Lance as they came up to Lance’s apartment door. “Only looking forwards, right?”

    Lance blinked at him, the keys in his hands, all jingling against each other. The sound filled the air between them. He sucked in a breath, puffing his chest out with the inhale. “Yeah.”

    “Looking forward to things like _us_ , right?” Keith’s voice had dropped an octave and was thick with emotion.

    He was closer, now. So, so close to his soulmate. It was like a switch was flipped and the air became charged.

    Lance swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Right,” he breathed.

    Keith didn’t say anything more.

    Like magnets, Lance leaned down while Keith pushed up to meet him. There was a second of hesitation, A moment of hovering uncertainty as they exchanged looks, flicking between eyes and lips.

   And then it was a gasping flurry: the gap between them closed and they met. Mouths slotted against each other as they kissed. Soft sounds and puffs of breath were passed between them. The breath from Lance’s nose fanned over Keith’s cheekbone and Keith remembered that he had forgotten to breathe.

    Hastily, he drew in a breath, cocked his head and continued kissing Lance. He drew back and turned away, pulling a slightly confused sound deep within his soulmate’s chest as he grabbed Lance’s keys to unlock the door.

    As soon as it was opened, and they were through it Lance was on him again, kissing hungrily, hands on hips and Keith’s own hands grasping at his arm and the back of his shirt.

    Insistent tugging led them through the dark space. Keith knocked his hip against the side of the couch as Lance kissed him, cupped his face and only let go when Keith took over, backing Lance up against the column of wall at the beginning of the stairs. Keith crowded into his space, pressing against him as his hands pushed up under the hem of Lance’s shirt. His grip went around, bending Lance’s legs around until they were snug against Keith’s hips.

    Lance pulled back with a little groan. “I don’t think you get how hot it is that you can pick me up,” he noted. “That’s, like, a mad turn on.”

    Keith laughed, pressing a hand into Lance’s middle back to keep him stable.

    There was more kissing. Keith had the urge to repeat a string of words Lance said weeks ago. _Why didn’t we start doing this a long time ago?_

    He didn’t have the time to dwell on the question, because there was a rude distraction in the form of a door opening somewhere to his right. He faintly heard the lock click open and the creak of the wood against the frame. Before he fully registered the sound, there was a light, popping sort of exclamation.

    “So, I see you’ve both made up!” came a voice Keith found vaguely familiar. Dredging a name up from memory to connect it to, he looked to the side, body tense. He relaxed when all he saw was Lance’s manager, Ms. Robins.

    Lance jolted away from Keith, his eyes wide. “Aw, shit,” he muttered. He untangled himself from his soulmate, lowering himself down onto the floor again. “Carla,” he said, laughing nervously. “What’s up?”

    She gave him a withering look. Lifting the heavy-looking notebook in her hands, she said, “We’ve got to talk.You’ve gotten yourselves into a very, _very_ deep pit, image wise. We need to start working towards getting you two out of it.”

    Lance made an unhappy sound. “Way to ruin the honeymoon phase,” he grumbled.

    Keith shuffled, his sneaker tapping at the first step of the stairs. “Should I get out of here?” he asked, looking between the two of them.

    “No.” The woman shook her head. “You’re very much a part of this. We need you here to help. And besides. If you’re here, then there’s no way anything can get lost in translation.” She shot Lance a dirty look at that last bit. She came farther into Lance’s home, crossing down and taking a left past the kitchen to the kitchen table, ignoring the small conference room through the door to her left. She took a seat and parked her bag and notebook on the tabletop in front of her.

    They two came closer, but not by much. Inching slowly, they had barely made it past the kitchen island before she gestured them all the way in with an exasperated hiss.

    “Let’s get started,” she said, opening her book. “We’ve been dark for over a week. People are taking partial info and creating their own realities with what’s going on here.” She gave a mighty eye roll. “We’ve got to get going and correct everything. It’s time we come out and set things straight.”

    Keith had a dreaded feeling that this was going to be a long day of work and very little of the pleasure they had been intending to indulge in.

         They did a lot of interviews the weeks after that. And “they” meant Lance. Keith’s role in everything was graciously minimal. It mostly consisted of him going back online, rising from social media death and promoting the living hell of Lance’s bits. He had one or two Skype interviews done, as well. He also took the opportunity to spread the messages of the interviews in question. _Soulmates_.

    It was all about the stigmas and social ideas surrounding soulmates. They talked about the negative, the positives and everything in between, often times using themselves as examples.

    Carla was hesitant to let them do as they pleased, but was soon on board as they talked further into everything. She was gracious, making sure both were comfortable and on board before each decision was made.

    After two weeks, the initial rush slowed a bit. Not by much, but enough to give them a quick breather. The tabloids were still talking about both of their apparent “break up, breaks downs,” but those sketchy details were soon forgotten as more attention drawn to their current topic of interest.

    The whole thing was rather controversial, and the reactions were always mixed. The opinions on it were always teetering back and forth between accepting agreement, and radical hate.

    Now Keith could see why Carla was hesitant to go along with their whims.

    It’s this sort of thing that breaks a career.

    But even as Keith shut his right eye, letting a young man apply makeup to his lid, he drew a conclusion that he didn’t have to worry.

    They were currently getting prepped for an interview. Lance was in a chair to Keith’s left, getting his hair messed with. Lance’s eyes connected with Keith’s in the mirror and he smiled.

    “Nervous?” he teased. Keith could hear the genuine note of worry in his voice.

    Keith hummed noncommittally, shrugging a shoulder. “Never done this before.”

    “Trust me, nobody’s gonna bite you too hard.”

    Keith snorted. “I can handle a few bites.”

    “Good, that’s good.” Lance’s grin was jovial. “‘Cause Hollywood’s full of wolves.”

         The interview went well. Lance was ecstatic over it. It was sort of hard for Keith to be confident in his part, since he had never done anything like the interview before, and there was more than a few times where he felt the need to shrink down in on himself from embarrassment. But as they sat on Lance’s couch, cuddled in each other’s arms, watching the interview on television, so far Keith couldn’t find any glaring faults.

    He watched Lance the most, as he carried the conversation with the host, using every opportunity he could find to draw Keith in.

    “I can’t believe they let me take that jacket home,” Keith said, looking at the soft leather number he wore on-screen. The jacket was thrown over the back of a recliner some feet away.

    “It looks very good on you,” Lance noted, a smirk in his voice. Keith felt his cheeks warm slightly.

    “Oh shush.”

    “No, I’m serious! You looked amaz-,”

    Keith pressed the pad of his right thumb to Lance’s lips, effectively shushing him. “Wait a second, I want to hear this part.”

    On the TV, the host smiled warmly, looking a the two of them. “So, we’ve been over the rough patch. If you’ll allow me to ask, how are the two of you doing as of now?”

    Lance smiled, so full of life and affection for his soulmate. It made Keith shift closer to the actor, removing his hand from Lance’s face, trailing it down to rest on his shoulder.

    “It’s a good question,” he granted. “We’re…” He glanced to Keith, who watched curiously, wondering what he was going to say. “I think we’re exactly where we need to be at this point in time.” He intertwined Keith’s fingers with his own.  “We’re good. Not great, but… perfect. Perfect for this exact moment.”

    Lance shifted underneath Keith, looking up at the younger man.

    “What do you think?” he asked quietly. “Did I nail it or what?”

    Keith laughed. “Right on the head.” He leaned in, giving Lance a small kiss on the lips.

Huh.

Maybe there is such a thing as perfection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone, for reading! Thank you for taking this… incredibly long journey with me. This story has taken my time, my sleep and my tears to create. I started it, what? In August? We’re coming up on 9 months. That’s insane.
> 
> What’s insane is really being able to see how my writing style has changed, honestly. It’s so vastly different and very neat to see.
> 
> So, even though this work is finished, the series is not! You can subscribe to the Tick Tock series, so you can be updated whenever I post anything that has to do with this monster of an AU. There’s a lot more having to do with this series, including one-shots, deleted scenes and simple shenanigans I’m able to dream up.
> 
> Thank you so, so, so, so much to two very beautiful people who’ve helped me with this work: Mikiri and Penny. Felix, this story would probably be illegible without you. Pen, this would probably have been abandoned _months_ ago without you. Thank you both!  <3
> 
> With that being said, thank you to everyone who has supported me in this! You guys are fucking amazing, don’t let anyone ever tell you different.
> 
> Please drop me a comment or visit me over on [tumblr ](https://goddammitlance.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Now i'm gonna go cry bc i am now empty inside


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